Accident-Prone
by amythis
Summary: In this sequel to "Granted," Gilligan might've gotten both girls pregnant in one week.
1. Turtle Wax

Mary Ann stood in the entrance of the cave, staring out at the storm, her arms crossed not just for warmth but to hold her emotions inside. Her feelings were in as much turmoil as the weather. It was a mistake to let Ginger manipulate her into going for a walk with Gilligan, and yet in a way it was exactly what Mary Ann had wanted.

Mary Ann had been in love with Gilligan for almost three years, since another, stronger storm that had shipwrecked them on this island that had become their home, a home shared with five other castaways, and various other visitors and residents, both human and animal. He was so sweet and brave during the three days that they were lost at sea, when she was afraid they'd never make it back to Hawaii and she'd never return to Kansas. And indeed, she hadn't gone home, her real home, not yet. She still liked to believe that they would be rescued someday, even though every visitor, including her formerly favorite rock band, had abandoned them.

Love of the Mosquitoes was just one thing she and Gilligan had shared. They were both nature-lovers and they probably had the simplest tastes of anyone on the island. And they were close in age and tried to believe in the best of people, even when it wasn't easy.

She got to know him very well over the past three years, but she felt like he still didn't really understand her, and not just because he didn't understand girls. She'd dropped hints of her feelings again and again, even telling him to his face that she was sure it was love, but he'd seemed to just think she was trying to make him feel young when his hair went white.

She'd decided that this was just how Gilligan was and it was silly to expect him to change. Maybe someday he'd see how she felt, but for now she'd be patient. And then Ginger had swooped in and stolen Gilligan!

Mary Ann knew that wasn't fair. Ginger had been vamping Gilligan for years, and the poor boy had either run away in fright, knocked himself out, or stood almost paralyzed by Ginger's attentions, including when Mary Ann slipped a jet-pack onto him while Ginger's kisses stupefied him. But this was different. This was Ginger teaching Gilligan about lovemaking, and him agreeing to it.

Yes, Mary Ann could've spoken up and objected. But if this was what Gilligan wanted, what right did she have to try to stop it? He clearly wasn't interested in her. And she loved him enough to step aside, to not make things difficult and complicated. Besides, she knew that for some men, Ginger was the sort of girl you fooled around with and Mary Ann was the sort you married. It was possible that Gilligan was just practicing with Ginger. But Mary Ann still felt funny about the whole business and wasn't sure if she wanted Ginger's hand-me-downs. With clothes, sure. Ginger had wonderful, glamorous taste. But Gilligan meant a lot more to Mary Ann than an old gown.

Then everything changed with Ginger seeming to step aside. But it wasn't as if she said, "Mary Ann, I'm going to be noble and let you have Gilligan," or even "Well, I'm done playing with the boy. He's all yours now." She just said something about Mary Ann teaching Gilligan to dance, which they both knew was nonsense. And then Gilligan himself showed up and Ginger said she was tired and sent them off into the night.

Mary Ann was prepared to give Gilligan dance lessons, but not anything else, especially not when Gilligan now knew more about fooling around than Mary Ann did. Mary Ann had never even necked! Well, yes, once in a dream that she had always wondered about. But that didn't count, did it? Even if it was with Gilligan.

Last Spring, she had bumped her head and, so the others told her later, thought she was Ginger. She thought the island heat had expanded her clothes, so she cut down some of Ginger's clothes to fit. And in the dream, she was wearing one of Ginger's leopard print outfits. She was acting like Ginger and wanted to act with Gilligan. She had a love scene to rehearse and she wanted him to practice with her, which was odd, because at the time Ginger would've more likely chosen the Professor to rehearse with.

At first, Gilligan ran away in her dream, but then he came back and was very cooperative. She of course never asked him if anything like that had ever happened in real life. She would've been too embarrassed to ask and he would've been too embarrassed to tell. Or what if he looked at her like she was crazy? That would've been worse.

She supposed that it wouldn't be like Gilligan to take advantage of her delusion even if she had asked him to. Besides being so shy about romance, he was very considerate. Still, the dream was a sign that she knew on some level that maybe Gilligan had the potential to be romantic and maybe even passionate. So his recent experimentation with Ginger didn't entirely surprise her.

She had assumed at first it was just a physical thing, but she had noticed that he looked increasingly infatuated with Ginger that week. She didn't feel comfortable talking about it to him or Ginger. They didn't need her acting possessive of someone who had never been and never would be her boyfriend. She'd just try to be happy for them, but it wasn't easy.

She ended up talking to the Professor that evening. It wasn't easy to approach him of course. He usually seemed so aloof and unemotional. Mrs. Howell would've obviously been more sympathetic. Mary Ann remembered Mrs. Howell trying to set her and Gilligan up on a date a couple years ago. It had been awkward but nice, until the Howells quarreled, and then everyone focused on reconciling the married couple. But Mary Ann thought Mrs. Howell still wanted to see her with Gilligan, and not just so the older woman could plan a wedding. Mrs. Howell could be very sweet and approachable sometimes, even motherly, especially towards Mary Ann and Gilligan. And she'd dated other men before Mr. Howell, so she understood romance in a different way than Ginger did.

But Mary Ann had always wondered if the Professor had feelings for Ginger. After all, their kiss in the movie that was supposed to get them all rescued had been a lot more passionate than the situation of Ginger thanking the Professor called for. And there had been other moments over the past three years when he'd shown subtle interest in the red-haired actress.

Mary Ann had no doubt about Ginger's feelings for the Professor, or at least she hadn't before this involvement with Gilligan began. It was possible that Ginger had decided that the Professor was a lost cause and Gilligan would be much more pliable. After all, he was young and cooperative, and Mary Ann knew he was a big fan of Ginger's even before they came to the island. She'd seen most of Ginger's movies but she didn't have them memorized like Gilligan did. If they were ever on a quiz show, competing in knowledge of the filmography of Ginger Grant, Gilligan would go home the big winner and Mary Ann would get Turtle Wax and Rice-a-Roni.

"Do you think Turtle Wax would work on turtles?" Gilligan had asked her that during the preparations for the turtle races a couple years ago. It was the sort of thing that made the others think Gilligan wasn't too bright, while she thought of him more like a young male Gracie Allen, seeing the world from his own unique perspective, with his own kind of logic. And sometimes he was wise in ways that surprised her, coming up with insights and solutions that none of the others could imagine, because they were all limited in different ways.

Still, it was true that Gilligan didn't know much about women. He should've realized that asking her to make love with him, just so he could figure out if he was in love with Ginger, was a bad idea, even if he didn't know how Mary Ann felt about him. Mary Ann was old-fashioned, even if some of what she'd done in the past three years would've shocked her mother, not to mention Uncle George and Aunt Martha. Certainly Martha would've frowned at some of the outfits Mary Ann wore, never mind that this was a tropical island, and miniskirts and short-shorts just felt more comfortable.

Would she have made love with Gilligan if he had never gotten involved with Ginger? Maybe if she and Gilligan had gone on dates, to the extent that dating was possible on the island. But only if he said he loved her. She'd have known it would've been true because Gilligan couldn't lie. In fact, he'd been too honest tonight.

She was angry at him but more at herself. She shouldn't have fallen into the role of the sympathetic, listening friend. The role that she'd asked the Professor to play a couple hours ago.

"I've got the fire going," Gilligan called to her from the middle of the cave.

It was cold in the doorway. It would be warmer by the fire. She slowly went deeper into the cave.


	2. Theories

The Professor looked out his window and observed that the storm was building. He'd thought of warning Gilligan and Mary Ann when they set out that night, but he knew that the farmgirl had much to say to the young sailor, if she could find the courage.

Roy had been surprised that she'd told him as much as she had. He knew his unemotional reputation, and not just on the island. He would've expected to be the last person that a young woman would choose to confide her feelings to. Adding to the awkwardness, that afternoon he'd confirmed a theory he'd developed over the past week, that the instruction Ginger was offering Gilligan had little to nothing to do with the terpsichorean arts.

The Professor would never have spied or snooped, but he couldn't help stumbling across a clearing with two cane chairs and a blanket. He could understand the chairs, as Gilligan and Ginger might wish to rest between dances. But a blanket spread out on the ground suggested lounging. It was possible that these items were left by someone else, such as the Howells, but it seemed unlikely that the long-married couple would have a jungle interlude, especially when they'd probably prefer the relative comfort of one of their two beds.

Furthermore, Roy had seen Gilligan carrying both chairs the night of the first lesson. It was possible that someone else had added the blanket later, for an unrelated purpose, but that was implausible.

The Professor told himself it was none of his business what Ginger and Gilligan were doing together, but it was difficult to be indifferent. After all, this was a tiny and somewhat close-knit community. No man was an island, especially on an island.

He wasn't going to be the first to bring up the subject of course, but when Mary Ann came knocking a couple hours ago, it was almost a relief to discuss it. That did not mean, however, that he could speak with as much candor as the girl could.

After apologizing for bothering him, and a bit of hemming and hawing, Mary Ann said, "Professor, I wanted to talk to you about Gilligan's lessons with Ginger."

"Oh?" He knew he'd have to be careful to give away neither his theory nor his opinion on that theory.

"Yes, you see." Mary Ann seemed to be embarrassed and he was tempted to spare blushes by cutting her off, but he did have the feeling that they both needed someone to discuss this with, no matter how awkward it might be. "Well, they're not really dance lessons."

"And what makes you think that?"

"Well, she told me."

"Oh." He was a little surprised, but he supposed it was the sort of thing close female companions would confide in each other.

"I mean, she didn't go into detail of course, but it was pretty clear what she meant. And, well, I know it's none of my business of course, but I worry about Gilligan. He's so naive and trusting."

The Professor didn't point out that so was she. He was hardly a worldly person himself, although he had a scientist's rationality. "So you feel protective of him?"

"Well, yes. Not that Ginger's a bad person or anything. I mean, she's one of my best friends. I don't think she'd deliberately hurt him. But, well, you know how flirty she is. And things might not mean the same to her as to him."

"Things?"

"You know what I mean." She was definitely blushing now.

He didn't want to further embarrass her, but after almost three years on the island, he knew how it easy it was for people to misunderstand each other and proceed under false premises. He coughed. "Just to be clear, you think that she's instructing him in, um, romance, and you fear that her greater knowledge of physical and emotional intimacy, as well as his tendency towards literalness, puts him at a decided disadvantage."

"Yeah, sort of."

"If that's the case, I think the Skipper would be a better choice to give Gilligan the advice of an older man." Not only was the Skipper much closer to Gilligan than the Professor was, but he was much more knowledgeable about women and much more comfortable discussing the topic.

"Well, yes, I suppose so, but I didn't really want you to talk to Gilligan. I was sort of hoping you could talk to Ginger."

"To Ginger?" That would be an even more awkward discussion, for many reasons.

"Yes. Maybe you could ask her, well, her intentions. "

"Intentions?"

"Yes, like is this just a game to her or does she have genuine feelings for him?"

As much as Roy would like to know the answer to that, he had trouble imagining asking the question. "Wouldn't that be better coming from you? After all, you're her roommate and you're both girls."

"Yes, but I'm afraid I'm not exactly a disinterested party."

It was not exactly a confession of undying love for Gilligan, but it was enough to support a theory he'd had since at least the time that Mrs. Howell had tried to matchmake the two youngest castaways, and Mary Ann had seemed extremely cooperative.

"So you're looking for someone who's more neutral than you."

The way she said, "Exactly," made him wonder how much insight she had into his feelings, particularly when she added, "And I know Ginger respects you and values your opinion."

The Professor did not point out that this was hardly an area where Ginger would defer to his expertise. Instead, he said, "I'll make you a deal. I'll talk to Ginger, if you'll talk to Gilligan."

She blushed a little but softly said, "All right."

He assumed that that would buy him some time. It was then almost eight o' clock. Gilligan would soon be setting out with Ginger, as he had punctually every night for a week. Mary Ann would be unable to speak with Gilligan that night, and perhaps once she did, there would be no need for Roy to speak on this matter with Ginger.

But then, a few minutes later, Gilligan had departed with Mary Ann instead of with Ginger. The Professor overheard Mrs. Howell say, "Gilligan, isn't it time for your dance lesson?" and Gilligan self-consciously reply, "Uh, Ginger's feeling tired so, um, I'm going for a walk with Mary Ann."

Of course, that was no guarantee that the two young people would broach the sensitive topic. Roy was not yet honor-bound to address Ginger on the same topic, especially not when Ginger was probably turning in early. Besides, it looked like it might rain. He could wait until at least the next day.

However, when the rain came, it was heavier than he predicted. He felt a pang of guilt for not warning Mary Ann, so that she could've postponed her walk with Gilligan or at least dressed more sensibly. That mini-dress may've been the latest fashion, but it wouldn't offer much protection against a storm.

More time passed and he had the feeling that Mary Ann and Gilligan wouldn't be coming back any time soon. Likely they'd seek shelter in one of the islands' many caves. Perhaps the Professor should brave the storm, and his fears and doubts, in order to talk to Ginger.

If she was sleeping, it could wait until morning. But she invited him in and he entered her hut, unaware of the length or consequences of this visit.


	3. Discomfort

As Gilligan built the fire with twigs and grass he found inside the cave, he tried to think of how to apologize to Mary Ann, but he still wasn't sure exactly what he'd done wrong. He just knew that she was one of the last people whose feelings he'd want to hurt.

Right now, all he could do was try to make them both physically more comfortable. The storm was pretty heavy and showed no signs of letting up. He didn't know how long they'd have to take shelter here, but maybe it would be long enough for him to find the right words. Meanwhile, he got the blaze going and called to her, standing in the mouth of the cave with her arms crossed.

She turned around and slowly walked over. Then she sat on the opposite side of the fire and put her hands out to feel the heat. He knew that it was important to keep your extremities warm after being soaked. He took off his soaking shoes and socks, then moved so that his feet and hands could absorb the heat.

She was wearing sandals, but she nonetheless slipped them off and then huddled closer to the fire.

"Does that help?"

She nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."  
"How long do you think the storm will last?"

"I don't know. We might be stuck here all night."

"I'm sorry you're stuck with me instead of Ginger."

"Mary Ann! I didn't mean that. I meant you're stuck with me when you're mad at me."

She sighed. "I'm not exactly mad at you. Just disappointed I guess."

"Oh. Well, I usually disappoint people."

She shook her head. "Not like that. It's just, well, it's kind of insulting that the only reason you'd want to make love with me is to compare me to Ginger."  
"Oh. No, that wouldn't be the only reason."  
"Gilligan! It shouldn't be a reason at all!"

"Oh, I see. Well, I'm just very confused right now because I think I'm in love with Ginger and she's opened up this whole new world to me, but the Skipper thinks I'd feel this way about any girl it happened with. And before it happened, well, you were the girl I liked best."

She blinked. "On the island or ever?"

"Well, there's not much difference for me. I was shy with girls before I came to the island and I didn't really meet any I was that interested in, or that were interested in me. And you two pay a lot of attention to me, as a person but also as a man. And I've gotten to know the two of you as people, and girls. And I liked Ginger a lot but you're easier to talk to and we have more in common, so I liked you best."

"Oh. Who did you think was prettier?"

"I don't want to answer that."  
"It's OK if you say Ginger. I mean, she's a movie star!"

"I think you're both very pretty, in different ways."

"Oh. Sorry to put you on the spot."

"It's OK. I sort of asked for it by saying I was going to compare you two."

"Well, Gilligan, even if I made love with you, you'd have to remember that I've never done it before and of course I wouldn't be as good at it as Ginger."

"It wouldn't be about you being 'good.' It'd be about how I'd feel about you."

"Compared to Ginger."

"Um, yeah."

"But what if you felt like you were in love with both of us? Then what would you do?"

"Oh, good point. Or what if I didn't fall in love with you but you fell in love with me?"

"Gilligan, I'm already in love with you!"

For a long moment, the only sounds were the storm outside and the crackling fire. Mary Ann looked like she half regretted blurting that out and half dared him to reply.

"How do you know?"

She sighed. "I just do. I love everything about you. The way you look, the way you talk, the way you act. I mean, I don't like you at every single moment, but even when I'm angry or disappointed, I still love you."

"But you let Ginger give me lessons!"

"Because that's what you wanted. And I want you to be happy."

"Oh." He let this all sink in and then thought beyond it. "But does Ginger know that?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"See, she pushed us to go out tonight. When she could've made me fall even more in love with her."

"Does she know you're in love with her?"  
"I don't know. Maybe."

"Is she in love with you?"

"I really don't know that."

"Neither do I. But she must care about you, a lot."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, she's letting you make a free choice."

"Sort of. But it's not like you want me anyway. I mean, I blew it, huh? It wasn't like I asked you to make love with me because of my feelings for you. I was being selfish."

"Yes, you were."

"I'm really, really sorry."

"I forgive you."

"Just like that?"

"Yes."

At least they were friends again. Maybe he should just take a break from girls for awhile, at least this dating stuff. He wasn't very good at it and he needed to clear his head.

However, Mary Ann suddenly stood up, walked around the fire, sat down next to him, and asked, "Do you want to snuggle?"


	4. Nature

Mary Ann was glad that she'd shared her feelings with Gilligan. Not that he returned them, but at least she didn't have to keep them secret anymore. And she and Gilligan understood each other better now.

It felt good cuddling in front of the fire, and not just because they'd gotten soaked by the rain. His arms were long and warm, and she liked them wrapped around her like this.

It was different than if he'd never done much more than this with Ginger. But Mary Ann was doing her best to control her jealousy. She was the one he was with that night, even if it wasn't exactly by choice. Maybe tomorrow, he'd go back to Ginger, but there was no harm in a little snuggling in the meantime.

"This is nice," he said.

"Uh huh."

"Can I kiss you?"

She was surprised. The old Gilligan wouldn't have started anything. He just reacted to what she, and Ginger, did, usually with fear or confusion.

She couldn't help asking, "Is this so you can compare my kisses to Ginger's?"

"No, you've both been kissing me for years. I just want to see what it's like to kiss you when I'm not just letting it happen to me."

She supposed she could've said no, but like he said, it wasn't like they'd never kissed before. And she did want to kiss him, and Ginger probably wouldn't mind. Mary Ann shifted in Gilligan's arms so that her face was close to his and puckered up.

His warm lips met hers and it almost felt like a first kiss because it was different than before. Gilligan was still sweet but he was no longer shy. Despite her jealousy, Mary Ann was grateful to Ginger for teaching him whatever she'd taught him. Or maybe he knew some of this instinctively and Ginger just brought it out in him.

He stroked Mary Ann's hair with one hand and her face with the other, as his lips moved against hers. And then his tongue slipped between his lips and lightly licked hers till she opened them with a soft sigh, and his tongue slipped between them, too.

Part of her was thinking that this was the sort of kiss that Aunt Martha had warned her about, the sort of kiss that led to other things. But the other part remembered that Aunt Martha was thousands of miles away and probably thought she had died, which could've happened a few times in the past three years. And all of Mary Ann was aware that she was alone with the man of her dreams, as he held her and made her feel good. The soft but flexible, wet, pink part in her mouth greeted and played with its matching visitor.

After awhile, they paused, and he breathlessly asked, "Do you like that?"

"Yes, Gilligan," she said, too shy to say in words how much she liked it.

"Good," he whispered in her ear. "You tell me when you stop liking it."

She couldn't imagine ever not liking kissing Gilligan, but then he switched to necking and she realized he meant stop liking what he was doing. He was now the experienced one and he was bringing his Gilligany eagerness to making out. It would be up to her to say how far was too far.

The trouble was, she didn't know anymore. She was raised to be a good girl, but the world was changing, and their island was its own little world. And this was the man she loved, even if he was in love with someone else. Still, a little necking was OK.

She kissed and caressed his sensitive neck and ears as he did the same to hers. Sometimes it felt so good that they had to say each other's names into each other's ears. Outside, the storm continued. No one could hear them, or even find them. Mother Nature was giving them time together.

When Gilligan's hand traveled down her throat and all the way to her chest, she didn't stop it. She didn't say that this was all happening too fast, that she wasn't that kind of a girl. Instead she was thinking of all the times she'd dressed to show off her figure, to get Gilligan to notice and appreciate that she was a girl. So in a way, this wasn't fast at all, even if it was all happening in one dark and stormy night.

His hand cupped her left breast and she was sure he could feel her fast heartbeat through her bra and the top of the minidress. Then his hand grazed over her nipple, which hardened even at that distant contact. He smiled and French-kissed her again.

As his tongue teased hers, she wondered if he was thinking of teasing her nipple with it. And his fingers kept wandering back to the nipple, playing with it through the fabric, till he was driving her crazy. She kissed over to his ear and whispered, "Please unzip me, Gilligan!"

"I'd be happy to, Mary Ann," he whispered in her ear, and then gave her ear a quick lick.

She knew that whatever else happened that night, she now no longer met the Horner's Corners definition of a good girl, and she couldn't have been happier.


	5. Clothesline

Gilligan carefully unzipped Mary Ann's minidress. He didn't know how far she'd let him go that night, or what it would mean for him and Ginger, but he was willing to let the night unfold however it would. For all he knew, the rain would let up any moment and he and Mary Ann would make their way back to camp. One or both of them would have to confess to Ginger, but somehow he didn't think she'd disapprove.

Mary Ann was wearing a bra and panties under her minidress. Gilligan had never expected to see her in her underwear. In the old days, he was embarrassed to even see the girls' underwear hanging on the clothesline or in their hut. And now he'd seen both of them like this. It had been quite a week, and it wasn't yet over.

He wanted to touch her, but first he spread the dress on a patch of ground near enough to the fire that it could dry out but not so near it could catch on fire. He wished he had a clothesline.

She thanked him and he nodded. He wondered if he should take off any of his clothes, besides his socks and shoes, but he decided to wait.

He came back and snuggled with her again. They started kissing and after awhile he unfastened her bra. She sighed his name and then helped him remove the bra. Then he started caressing her chest.

He used to compare the girls' chests, as subtly as he could, so they wouldn't slap him. But he was finding that the more he did to and with the girls, the less he wanted to compare them. He liked them both and felt lucky to have had a chance to be with both.

He did know that at some point he was going to have to figure out if he was really in love with Ginger. But he was trying not to worry about it that night. He wanted to just enjoy whatever Mary Ann had to offer.

As he knew from his secret ogles, Mary Ann's breasts were smaller and perkier than Ginger's. But they felt equally soft and seemed to be equally sensitive. One difference was that Gilligan was relatively more experienced now, and he had a better sense of how to touch a girl's chest than when he learned on Ginger, but there were little differences in what they liked, so he still had to make adjustments.

"Mmm, you're so sweet and gentle," she murmured.

"Of course," he said. Why wouldn't he be, especially at the beginning?

She smiled and said, "Would you like to kiss them?"

He nodded and moved his head down. He softly kissed the top of her chest and then traced the curves with his lips until she sighed happily. After awhile, he used his tongue, too, making her gasp and then sigh.

Eventually, his kisses and licks gave way to sucks. She tangled her fingers in his damp hair and softly moaned as he pleasured one breast and then the other.

After awhile, he looked up from her chest to her smile and was about to ask her if it was OK so far. Maybe she'd want to take a break or try something else.

But first she said, "Gilligan, do you promise to be gentle and patient our first time?"

He almost asked her which first time she meant, but under the circumstances, there was only one likely first time. "Oh, yeah, sure, if we ever do it, I'd be very nice to you."

She shook her head. "I mean tonight."

"Oh, I see." He couldn't say it came as a complete surprise, but he would've expected more steps first, based not only on his experience with Ginger but on Mary Ann's lack of experience before that night.

"Unless you don't want to."

"No, I still want to. It's just I'm not in love with you."

"You don't have to be. At least, not for my sake. I understand it might make a difference to you."

"No, I don't mind."

She shook her head. "You're so strange, Gilligan. Most men don't act this way when girls offer their virtue to them."

"How do you know?"

She laughed. "Well, I assume they don't. I can't even tell if you want me or not."

He scooted back up so he could whisper in her ear, "I want you." And then he took her hand to the part of him that proved it.

"Oo, Gilligan!"

"You've never touched one before, right?"

"Of course not."

"Well, it isn't always hard like this. It means I like you and like touching you."

"Mm hm."

"Just like when these get hard on a girl." He touched one of her nipples with his free hand.

She let out a little moan, then widening her big brown eyes, she said, "This is very interesting. Can you tell me any other signs of attraction?"

"Oh, well, if you take off your panties, we can see if you're wet between the legs. Um, plus some other changes." He blushed a little, not sure how detailed he should get.

"Really?" She let go of him and took off her panties. "Can you check?"

"Yeah, sure." He checked with the hand that wasn't on her chest. "Um, yeah, you seem to really like me, or at least being touched."

"Both," she whispered in his ear, as one hand tangled in his hair and the other returned to his unzipped bell-bottoms, this time going inside his jockey shorts. "And I think you like me, or at least being touched."

"Both!" he gasped.

She'd lowered his jeans and jockeys as far as his knees with one hand, when her other hand got sudden proof of his fondness for her and these activities. She responded by giving his hand proof as well.


	6. Honesty

The Professor's eyes widened when he saw Ginger without the blanket wrapped around herself. Apparently, he'd never realized that she slept in just her panties.

She slipped into her bed and pulled the blanket over herself. But then her own eyes widened as she watched him strip off his shoes, white shirt, and khaki slacks. Gilligan's body was skinny and athletic, built for speed, endurance, and agility, despite his clumsiness. The Professor's body should've been soft and flabby, considering his years at desks and tables. But he was as well built as any man she'd dated in Hollywood. Not a mindless musclehead like Duke Williams, but firm and toned, and not just for an Ivory-Tower academic. Of course, he'd led a more active lifestyle on the island, they all had, but she remembered he'd been very fit even three years ago.

She had seen him shirtless before and occasionally even in just his swim trunks, but it was a very different experience viewing him in just his underwear, at night, alone in her hut. Despite her worries and concerns about Gilligan and Mary Ann, she really hoped that they wouldn't be in any hurry to return. If they slept through the storm in some nice, safe cave, that would be perfectly fine with her. Even if she and the Professor just talked all night in their underwear, that would be lovely, especially as it seemed likely they would be talking about their feelings.

It was hard to believe that he was willing to become so vulnerable with her, after three years of mostly holding himself aloof, occasional passionate kisses and flirtatious remarks notwithstanding. But maybe her relationship with Gilligan had changed things, motivated him enough to open up to her.

She did feel pangs of guilt and regret about Gilligan. He was such a sweet boy and she'd had a wonderful time teaching and playing with him. And she knew that he might be in love with her, for whatever love meant to him. They'd made no commitment to each other, other than her promise to make him the world's greatest lover. He hadn't reached that level, no one could in a week, even with her training, but he'd made remarkable progress. She couldn't exactly say, "My work here is done," but she felt like this might be a good time to end it, before he got too attached, or she might even find herself falling for him, when their relationship would never work outside the island, and maybe not indefinitely there.

She just didn't want to hurt him. She knew she'd have to tell him that she didn't return his feelings, but it wouldn't be easy. And now the Professor's unexpected visit complicated things. Perhaps she should send the Professor away without doing anything physically and/or telling him her feelings. Not right away. She'd let him dry out a bit first.

And meanwhile there was the question of what was going on with Gilligan and Mary Ann. Ginger half hoped they'd do something physically and/or tell each other their feelings. She might feel jealous, even if that was hypocritical, because she would miss what she'd had with Gilligan. Still, it might be best for everyone if something happened between Gilligan and Mary Ann, and not just so Ginger would feel less guilty.

The question was, would Gilligan want Mary Ann if he thought he was in love with Ginger? Some men, the Skipper came to mind, would be able to separate love and sex, although it was funny to think of the role reversal of Ginger as the love object and Mary Ann as the sex object. But it seemed like Gilligan would think of an emotional and/or physical connection to another girl as cheating, even without an actual commitment to Ginger. Or was it impossible to judge Gilligan's thoughts by those of any other man she'd ever met or heard of? Who knew how his brain worked?

What she'd been hoping when she sent him off with Mary Ann was that Mary Ann would confess her feelings and then Gilligan would reciprocate them and realize that what he felt for Ginger wasn't love. But she realized now that she'd been taking a big risk. If not for the storm, their staying out so late would be a hopeful sign, but for all she knew, they weren't even taking shelter together.

The Professor went to Mary Ann's bed and grabbed her blanket, wrapping it around himself. This conversation would be easier with the two of them covered up, at least at first. He sat in a chair and said, "Well."

She smiled at him. "Well. What would you like to talk about first?"

He seemed taken aback at her directness but after a brief hesitation, he said, "Can you tell me why you sent Gilligan off with Mary Ann tonight?"

She was surprised by his directness, although it was not directly related to himself. "Well, like I said. I want them to talk to each other."

"About each other?"

"Yes."

"Why? I mean, how is that to your benefit?"

She sighed. "Well, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard Gilligan telling the Skipper that he thinks that he, I mean Gilligan himself, is in love with me."

"Oh, I see. And you don't want that?"

"Well, I'm flattered of course. He's a very sweet boy and I'm very fond of him, even more since our, um, lessons. But I'm not in love with him."

"I see. So you're trying to push him off onto Mary Ann."

She winced, whether or not he meant that literally. Was that what she was doing? She'd thought she was doing Mary Ann, and hopefully Gilligan, a favor, but now she wasn't so sure.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean that to sound so harsh. And you may suspect, as I do, that Mary Ann is, well, in love with Gilligan."

She nodded. "She's never directly told me but it's always seemed that way."

"Then why did you offer these lessons to Gilligan?"

His questions were getting more personal, but she felt he deserved answers, even if they weren't easy. "Well, there are many reasons why I granted him the favor, or asked him to grant it to me."

The Professor blushed a little. "Um, my question was more about why you offered these lessons, suspecting how Mary Ann feels about Gilligan."

"Oh, I see. Well, I wasn't doing it to hurt her. And I gave her opportunities to speak up but she never did."

"Perhaps she didn't feel comfortable telling you her feelings about him. Or maybe, since you're her best friend, she didn't want to stand in your way."

"Maybe. Well, anyway, I didn't really feel like I was taking anything from her. It's not as if they ever dated. And I didn't see what I had with him as anything permanent."

"But now that you know of his feelings for you, you felt she should tell him her feelings for him?"

"Well, yes. And maybe that will make him look at his feelings for her. And rethink his feelings for me."

"But what if he just feels flattered by her feelings and still thinks his feelings for you are much stronger?"

She sighed. "Well, I thought it was worth trying."

"And now they may be stuck in a cave somewhere after having a very awkward conversation."

She did her best not to laugh. It was a funny image, but also a sad one. "I"m sorry. But let's look on the bright side. Maybe it all worked out and he returns her feelings."

"Maybe. But then you've put Gilligan in an awkward dilemma, where he'll think he's in love with two girls at once."

"Maybe he'll decide that he's more in love with Mary Ann than with me."

"Maybe. But you've set up a situation that, no matter how it turns out, will confuse an easily confused young man."

She again struggled not to laugh. She did feel guilty, despite her amusement. "I'm sorry. I meant well, through all of this."

He nodded. "I believe you. But I just think that there may be unintended consequences to this nighttime walk."

She sighed. "Yes. But it's good, isn't it, for people to be honest with each other?"

"Sometimes. But if that's the case, why weren't you honest with Gilligan? Or Mary Ann?"  
This conversation wasn't going at all the way she had hoped. But if she believed in honesty, and the possibility of a future with the Professor, then she had to keep answering his questions, no matter how probing. She wished for a moment he weren't so logical, but then his logic was one of the things she loved about him.

"Well, as for Mary Ann, she hasn't been that honest with me, has she?"

"No, but you can see why it might be hard for her."  
"Well, it's equally hard for me. As for being honest with Gilligan, until he actually tells me how he feels about me, or thinks he feels about me, it's not really up to me to bring it up."  
"Perhaps not, but you could've dropped hints."

She thought of pointing out that the Professor likely had never been in any situation remotely like this and he wasn't really one to give advice, but he likely knew that and was only trying to help. He knew theory but not much practice.

"Well, when they get back, I'll try to talk to both of them, separately."

"Good." The Professor glanced over at his still damp clothes, hanging on a different chair than the one he was sitting in. He probably wanted to go, but his clothes weren't dry. Of course, he would just get soaked again if he went out into the storm.

"So, Professor, as long as we're being honest, why did you decide to talk about this, at night, in the middle of a storm?"

The Professor looked uncomfortable, but he didn't put on his clothes and leave.


	7. Barriers and Passes

"Well, Mary Ann wanted me to talk to you and once I realized that she and Gilligan wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, this seemed like the right time."

"So it's just for her sake that you came over on a rainy night?"

"And Gilligan's."

"How sweet and selfless of you." Her tone was teasing and he wondered how much she knew or suspected.

"Well, naturally I want us all to live in as much harmony as possible. As Plato once said, 'A community is only as happy as its saddest member.' " As far as he knew, Plato had never said anything of the sort. But he thought it sounded more impressive with a classical attribution, and it wasn't as if Ginger would know the difference. He translated it into Greek to make it sound more believable.

"So your interest is purely platonic?"

The actress had no higher education, unless drama school counted. But she had wit and cleverness of her own. He knew some people thought he had no sense of humor, but just because he was earnest didn't mean he couldn't be amused. He chuckled now, although he also felt nervous.

After all, they were alone at night in her hut, in their underwear. And they had talked about intimate matters. True, they had not yet discussed their feelings for each other, but it seemed unlikely that he'd get out of there without that, especially when it would take awhile for his clothes to dry.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"You don't care about how my relationship with Gilligan affects you, except as a resident of the island?"

He shifted uncomfortably. It was hard enough talking about other people's feelings, even ones that didn't directly affect him, like Mary Ann's for Gilligan. Talking about his own was never easy, and here the person asking about them was a very sexy actress. A very sexy actress wearing only panties and a blanket.

He wondered if it would be easier if he just felt physical attraction to her. Maybe he could just dismiss it then. But he felt an emotional and mental connection to her, which he couldn't have predicted three years ago. So, while he couldn't dismiss his feelings for her, it was all the riskier to voice them. And yet, if he said nothing now, would he ever find the courage to say something?

He cleared his throat. "I care," he said quietly.

She smiled. "You do?"

"Yes. I want you to be happy. Well, I want everyone on the island to be happy. That's why I research and invent. To enhance the quality of life."

For a moment, she looked disappointed. Then she smiled again and said, "Well, we all appreciate it."

He felt like he could retreat, but why not take a step forward for a change? "Thank you. And, well, I want you especially to be happy."

He expected her to ask why her especially, but instead she asked, "Are you going to invent something for me?"

"Uh, what would you like me to make?" He felt like he wanted to give her whatever she wanted, but he also would find it a relief to have an excuse to go back to his hut. His clothes were still damp, but maybe that didn't matter when they'd just get wet again the moment he stepped outside. Perhaps this was enough for one night.

"A pass," she said softly.

"A pass?" He thought of mountain passes and bus passes. And then he felt foolish.

"Or do you need to do more research first? "

He thought of how she almost always made the first move. Not just with him and Gilligan but nearly every male visitor. Even with a robot! Perhaps it was significant that she was asking him to make a romantic overture, although it could be argued that such a request was an overture in itself.

He could've thought this through more thoroughly, but he knew she was waiting for an answer. "It occurs to me that I might dry out faster if we combined body heat."

She blushed and gasped, "Professor!"

"No, no, I meant snuggling!" He was no good at this and now he had offended her.

"In our underwear?" Now she sounded less shocked, and she batted her eyelashes.

"Well, uh, I can't put on my clothes, but you can if you want. I mean put on your own clothes, not mine."

"Thank you, but I can probably share my body heat more efficiently with fewer barriers."

That wasn't just a pass, that was a Disneyland E ticket. (He had once attended a conference held in Anaheim and reluctantly allowed his colleagues to dragoon him to the famous amusement park. He had a pleasant time, other than occasional nausea.)

He smiled and walked over to her bed. "I think we should test your hypothesis."

She smiled and held out her arms in a welcoming manner, letting her blanket fall to the bed. He wrapped Mary Ann's blanket and his arms around Ginger.

He kissed her soft lips gently. They had kissed often before, usually at her initiative, but he knew this kiss was a new beginning. And although they would probably do more than kiss that night, there was no need to be impatient with this first kiss.

She kissed back and lightly stroked his neck. He couldn't help thinking of what she'd done with Gilligan. Would this mean any more to her than that had?

Then she sighed, "Oh, Professor!"

"Call me Roy."

As they kissed and caressed, she called him Roy again and again, while he kept murmuring, "Ginger."

And then he said, "Ginger, your skin is so soft."

"Thank you. For the compliment and for the soaps and lotions."

"You're welcome."

They didn't talk again until his hands were tentatively moving towards her breasts, and she said, "I want you to know, you've always been the man I was most interested in."

"Always?"

"Well, for three years."

"I've been interested in you for seven years."

"Seven?"

"Since I saw one of your movies at the drive-in." (It might've been _The Hula Girl and the Halfback,_ but he couldn't recall the plot.)

"I thought you didn't like the curvature of the screen."

"I don't, but it was worth it for this curvature." He found the courage to cup her breasts in his hands.

"Mmm, Roy!"

They kissed passionately and pressed their bodies close together. The blanket fell and soon they were lying on top of it.

"Is this going too fast?" He wasn't sure if he was asking her or himself.

"Three years isn't fast, Professor."

"Roy." He could've said that this didn't have to all happen in one night, but he wanted it to, and not just because he didn't know when they'd have another opportunity like this.

They put their hands on the waistbands of each other's underwear, hers red silk, his plaid cotton. Soon there were two fewer barriers between them.


	8. Thunder

Author's Note: This chapter is deliberately short and confusing.

...

He moved inside her. She held him tightly.

She held him tightly. He moved inside her.

He smiled up at her and caressed her breasts before raising his head and catching one in his mouth.

She smiled up at him and stroked his brown hair.

He was inexperienced, but she didn't seem to mind.

This was her first time and she was grateful that he had a few days' experience, although she couldn't help wondering what it would've been like if he had waited for her.

He wondered if she was comparing him to Gilligan, or anyone else.

She wondered if he was comparing her to Ginger and whether this would change how he felt about either girl.

He was lost in the wonder of sex, wondering if it was always this wonderful. And did this mean he loved Mary Ann, too, or just sex? Maybe the Skipper was right that he might not be in love with Ginger. Or maybe this didn't prove anything.

She couldn't believe this was happening, that everything had changed so quickly, so suddenly. This was what she had always wanted, but she didn't fully understand why she finally had it.

This wasn't how she used to imagine it. He wasn't her husband on their wedding night. He wasn't even her boyfriend. Maybe she would never have a husband, or a real boyfriend. But she had that night and that was enough for now.

He wondered if he could've had this years ago, if he had just asked. But maybe they had to go through everything they'd gone through to get to this point.

She wasn't as naive as everyone seemed to think. She grew up on a farm. She knew that animals mated by instinct and that was how baby animals were made. She and Gilligan weren't animals, but they were mating. It was possible they were making a baby. She accepted that, in some ways even wanted that, although she didn't know if she had any kind of future with Gilligan. She knew Aunt Martha would be shocked, but Aunt Martha was far away. Well, she supposed she'd have to answer to Mrs. Howell, but even the millionaire's wife seemed distant then. There was the world outside this moment, this cave, but all that mattered was the boy she was holding so close.

He didn't know much about romance, but he understood biology. He was cognizant that sexual intercourse could lead to conception. He assumed that a woman as sophisticated and experienced as Ginger was perfectly aware of this and must take some sort of precaution. Of course, he wasn't sure what her options were hundreds of miles from civilization and gynecology, but she must've come up with some method before she decided to train Gilligan. He promised himself he'd ask her at another time. He didn't want to interrupt in the middle of this marvelous experience.

She of course knew that sex sometimes leads to babies. She'd been very careful before the island, especially in Hollywood. An unwed pregnancy would've been less of a scandal than in the old days, but it still would've ruined her career. Her image was sexy but not wanton, a tightrope she was used to walking. Even if she'd had a baby in wedlock, her image would've changed, and she hadn't been ready to transition to housewife roles either.

Here on the island, well, it hadn't been a concern for three years. She'd kissed often but done nothing even close to sex. She was sure she was still in the safe part of her cycle, but she had planned to take precautions if things continued with Gilligan. And now this, whatever it was, had started with the Professor. Perhaps he could invent something, although this wasn't the moment to ask. Unless this was just one night with the Professor, but she definitely didn't want to discuss that yet either.

He was a sailor but an innocent one. He hadn't really understood sex a week ago. And even after having it, he didn't fully understand it. He didn't know about conception, or ways to prevent it. As far as he knew, only married people had babies. And he and the girls weren't married, so it wouldn't have occurred to him that any of them could become parents.

Although none of them would ever know more than the half of it, just as thunder boomed, he, she, she, and he had a simultaneous orgasm.


	9. After

Mary Ann woke up with a smile on her face. The stormy night was over and she was lying in Gilligan's arms. OK, the floor of the cave wasn't very comfortable, but she was otherwise contented.

He stirred a little and then opened his eyes. "So it was real," he whispered.

She wasn't sure what he meant by "it," but unfortunately talking about the previous night would have to wait. "Gilligan, we've got to get dressed and go home."

"Has it stopped raining?"

"I think so." She half wished it hadn't, but she knew they had to get back as soon as possible. It was going to be hard enough explaining their absence to the others.

"OK," he said in that deceptively simple way Gilligan sometimes had.

They got dressed, turning their backs to each other, feeling modest despite their intimacy the night before. Or maybe their intimacy made them shyer, especially since they didn't know what it all meant.

They walked back to the huts in silence. She didn't want to discuss any big topic but she couldn't make small talk then either. As for Gilligan, he still seemed half asleep.

When they got to the clearing, she heard the Skipper exclaim, "There they are!"

It honestly hadn't occurred to her that the others would be worried about their safety. She'd first of all hoped that they could return before anyone was awake. And if they didn't make it back early enough, well, she assumed that Ginger would guess what they'd been up to and cover for them. Of course, the Skipper might wonder why Ginger was back from her nightly lesson with Gilligan when Gilligan hadn't returned, but Ginger was clever and convincing enough to fool the Skipper, too.

It also hadn't crossed Mary Ann's mind that all five of the other castaways would be waiting for them. The Howells were standing in front of her hut and Ginger and the Professor were peering out the doorway. She spared a moment to wonder if the Professor had stopped by that morning to talk to Ginger, as Mary Ann had asked him to what felt like so long ago, although it was barely twelve hours. She was curious if Ginger had admitted her intentions towards Gilligan, but maybe this was something the two girls would have to discuss with each other directly.

Before she could think any further, Mrs. Howell came over to them and said, "We need to talk privately in my hut."

Trying not to blush, Mary Ann followed her to the Howells' hut, Gilligan trailing after them. Mary Ann was nervous about the upcoming conversation and wondered if it would be easier or harder with Gilligan in the room. He did have a tendency to blurt things out, and there was a lot to blurt about that week. On the other hand, she felt like if she talked to the society matron alone, she'd be tempted to confide in her. She might've been willing to discuss her feelings for Gilligan, but she certainly wasn't going to tell Mrs. Howell what she'd done physically with him.

When they got to the hut, Mrs. Howell had them sit facing her. Mary Ann prepared herself to be interrogated, but then the older woman asked, "Gilligan, where did you two spend the night?"

"In a cave," Gilligan said matter-of-factly.

"In the same room? Or whatever caves have."

"Um, yeah."

"Well, now you'll have to marry her."

Mary Ann was too stunned to speak, even if she had been included in the conversation. As for Gilligan, he said, "Which her?"

Mary Ann couldn't help letting out a little gasp, although she knew it was a perfectly reasonable question from Gilligan's perspective. After all, he thought he was in love with Ginger and he'd been physically intimate with her more times than he had with Mary Ann. However, Mrs. Howell didn't know that anything had happened with Ginger besides dancing lessons.

Mrs. Howell blinked in surprise. Then she seemed to assume, as the others so often did, that Gilligan was just being dense. She sounded both maternal and condescending as she said, "Mary Ann of course."

He looked at Mary Ann but she still had no idea what to say, particularly in front of Mrs. Howell. He looked at the older woman again and said, "Because we spent the night alone in a cave?"

"Exactly. You have to do the right thing."

"Then I guess I should walk Mary Ann home because our date is over and that's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"Er, right."

He got to his feet, so Mary Ann got to hers. They both waved goodbye and stepped outside.

They again didn't speak as they walked along, but it was a shorter journey and a much less private one, not that any of their friends were in sight. She hoped that Ginger was still in their hut. She really needed to talk to Ginger. She needed her best friend's advice and she needed her rival to either step aside or make an official claim on Gilligan.

When they got to Mary Ann's door, Gilligan looked around and then whispered, "I need to talk to Ginger."

"Of course." He needed to tell Ginger about the conversation with Mrs. Howell even more than Mary Ann needed to. And he needed to talk about last night even more than she did.

Gilligan hesitated and then kissed her on the cheek. "I'll talk to you later, OK?"

"OK," she said, trying to keep her heart from breaking as it jumped into her throat.

She turned away as Gilligan knocked and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Of course, Honey."

Mary Ann promised herself she wouldn't cry. She wished she could be by herself, but she was also hungry. As she stepped out of sight behind the door Gilligan was opening, she wondered if anyone had had breakfast yet. As she heard Gilligan go into her hut and shut the door behind him, she decided she may as well cook something. He hadn't eaten since dinner either and he was a boy with a big appetite.

She blushed, remembering his appetite in a different sense the night before. She might never again feed that appetite, but as long as they were all stuck on this island together, she'd probably continue to prepare most of his food, no matter who he married. She may as well accept that.

She sighed and walked over to the outdoor kitchen, planning a breakfast for two or more. Although she had had many surprises in the last week, especially in the last twelve hours, none of them were bigger than the surprise of seeing Mr. Howell attempting to scramble eggs.


	10. Sleepy

The Professor couldn't help wondering if Mrs. Howell would pull him and Ginger aside for a private conversation next. Of course, they weren't as young and innocent as Gilligan and Mary Ann, and she didn't know they'd spent the night together, with far less excuse.

It had been an incredible night, perhaps the most incredible of his life, which was saying something, considering all his adventures on the island. He didn't know if it was the beginning of something or just one magical night, but he was sure he would always treasure it.

But he was not too swept away to not be curious about how Gilligan and Mary Ann had spent the night. He had seen them so briefly that morning that it was impossible to observe anything conclusive. They were not doting on each other, but maybe they felt self-conscious in front of the other castaways. On the other hand, they didn't seem to be on bad terms, since they'd returned together.

He wanted to discuss this all with Ginger, but the Skipper said, "Could I have a word with you, Professor?"

"Of course, Skipper." He looked at Ginger, wishing he could kiss her goodbye but he felt too self-conscious in front of the Skipper and Mr. Howell. He wasn't even sure what he could safely say.

She said, "Thanks for stopping by, Professor. I appreciate the weather forecast."

He wasn't sure if there was a subtext to that or if it was just a white lie to fool the other two men. He just said, "You're welcome," and walked over to the Skipper.

He let the captain lead him to the sailors' hut. He was surprised at first. They were less likely to be interrupted in his own hut, especially by Gilligan. But maybe the Skipper wanted to wait for Gilligan, who would have to return sometime. Actually, the young man had looked very sleepy, as if he'd been up all night, or at least had done something physically exhausting. The Professor stifled a yawn as he thought that Gilligan probably wanted to crawl into his hammock for a few hours.

They soon sat down in the Skipper's hut. Without any preamble, the Skipper said, "So what do you think of all this?"

The Professor hesitated, unsure what the Skipper meant by all, or this.

"Look, I don't know if Ginger told you, but those weren't dance lessons."

"Yes, I know." He could admit that, even though Ginger wasn't the one he first heard it from.

"OK. Well, I shouldn't be telling you this, since it's pretty personal, but Gilligan spending the night with Mary Ann has complicated things."

The Professor naturally wondered what the Skipper had to tell him, although he wasn't sure if he wanted to learn yet another personal fact about one or more of the other castaways. "Go on."

"Well, yesterday Gilligan told me he thinks he's in love with Ginger."

The Professor didn't have Ginger's acting skills, but he was able to appear unemotional. So he managed to say, "I see," as if this was new but not startling information.

"But he spent the night with Mary Ann, so I don't know what to think anymore."

"Well, there was a storm. They probably couldn't come back until morning."

"What were they doing out there in the first place? Why wasn't he out with Ginger?"

The Professor didn't want to lie and say he didn't know, so he said, "It is peculiar."

The Skipper snorted. "Yeah, peculiar. And now Mrs. Howell is sticking her oar in and I don't know how to get my little buddy out of this mess."

"It'll probably all work out."

The Skipper shook his head. "As much as I miss sex, I don't miss the trouble it causes." The Professor didn't know what to say, and then the Skipper added, "You don't know how lucky you are."

It was not the moment, if there ever would be one, to tell the Skipper about how the Professor had spent the night, particularly given the Skipper's infatuation with Ginger. Perhaps, when all this with Gilligan was sorted out, the Skipper could be happy for the Professor, but the news could wait. Besides, Roy would need at least one full night's sleep before he could thoroughly analyze the ramifications of coitus with Ginger.

"Well, anyway, now that the kids are back, I'm gonna try to get some shuteye until Gilligan is ready to explain to me what's going on."

The Professor knew that sailors had to be able to get to sleep quickly, sometimes in short bursts, but he was still surprised that the Skipper could want to sleep with so much unresolved. However, he guessed that if the Skipper had waited up for Gilligan to return from a date with Ginger, the captain had lost a lot of sleep.

"Get some rest, Skip," the Professor said and got to his feet.

"Thanks, you, too," the Skipper said, making the Professor wonder if the captain knew more than he let on. Or maybe the Skipper thought the Professor had also stayed up all night worrying.

The Professor wondered if he could visit Ginger again without drawing attention. No one was in sight. He wondered how long a talking-to Mrs. Howell would give Gilligan and Mary Ann.

He approached the girls' hut cautiously. He was about to knock when he heard Ginger speaking too softly for him to distinguish any words. A male voice quietly replied. The Professor assumed it was Gilligan. It obviously wasn't the Skipper and it was unlikely that it was Mr. Howell.

The Professor was understandably curious about this conversation, but he'd give them their privacy. He assumed Ginger would tell him about it later, unless she promised not to. He just hoped Gilligan wouldn't want to talk to him about it.

As he stepped away from Ginger's door, his stomach growled. He deduced that if Gilligan was back from the Howells', then Mary Ann might be making breakfast.

He wandered over to the kitchen, and not just to check on when she'd be serving the food. They wouldn't be able to talk very privately, but they probably should check in with each other after the eventful night.

He was startled to see Mr. Howell attempting to scramble eggs. When he got over his surprise, he offered, "Would you like some help with that?" When the Professor lived on his own, he'd learned the basics of cooking. It was not dissimilar from science, if much less compelling.

"Thank you, Professor, but I seem to be the only one who got a full night's sleep. Lovey and the rest of you stayed up worrying about Gilligan and Mary Ann."

Rather than deny this, the Professor said, "And you didn't?"

The millionaire chuckled. "I knew they wouldn't lose their lives, or anything else."

The Professor didn't feel up to this conversation. He just said, "Thank you for making breakfast. I'll take a quick nap and come back in a little while." He wasn't sure how good Mr. Howell's cooking would be, especially if he had to reheat it, but the Professor could make his own breakfast if need be. Right now sleep sounded like a great idea.

Mr. Howell waved goodbye distractedly, now focusing on the toast, which looked a little burnt.

The Professor shook his head and went to his hut. He was momentarily surprised to find someone there, but then it made perfect sense.


	11. Confusion

So much had happened in the last twelve hours or so that Ginger felt like it'd been weeks since she talked to Gilligan. She hardly knew where to begin, so when he asked, "Can I go first?", she nodded.

"I'm very confused right now."

She wanted to laugh but instead smiled gently and said, "I'm not surprised."

Even though they were alone, his voice dropped to a whisper. "I wanted to see you last night and you sent me away."

She sighed and whispered back, "At the time, I thought it was for the best."

"Yeah, but I had something I wanted to say to you."

Instead of saying, "Yes, I know," she said, "You can tell me now."

He shook his head. "Everything's different now."

She felt guilty about sleeping with the Professor. It wasn't the same as whatever Gilligan had done with Mary Ann. Gilligan thought he was in love with Ginger, so how would he feel if and when he found out what she'd done with the Professor?

"Mrs. Howell wants me to marry Mary Ann," he said abruptly.

She was a mix of amused, startled, and unsurprised. "Is that what she said?"

"Yeah, because I spent a whole night alone in a cave with Mary Ann."

It was clear that Mrs. Howell didn't know what Ginger and Gilligan had done alone over several evenings. If she did, would she expect Gilligan to marry Ginger instead? Maybe not, since Ginger hadn't been a virgin. Gilligan had been, but she couldn't see Mrs. Howell expecting her to make an honest man of him.

"Do you want to marry Mary Ann?" Ginger had always had the impression that Gilligan was as scared of marriage as he was of romance, but maybe he felt different now.

"I don't know. You see, yesterday I thought I was in love with you."

"Oh." She'd known that but it was different hearing him tell her, especially in the past tense. "And how do you feel now?"

"That's one of the things I'm confused about. I still think you're wonderful and I'm really grateful for all you taught me, but I like Mary Ann a lot, too, especially after last night."

She couldn't help smiling. "I'm glad."

"You're not jealous?"

"Maybe a little," she admitted. Even though she was happy for him, a part of her would miss the lessons, and him.

"Um, I wasn't just alone with her. We didn't just kiss."

She didn't want him to feel he had to explain. She certainly didn't want to explain about the Professor. "Oh, Honey, I want you to be with other girls if you feel you're ready."

"OK. You're not in love with me, are you?"

She knew she had to be honest about this at least. "No, I'm not."

"I guess I was stupid to think a woman like you, who's dated other movie stars, could fall for someone like me."

"Oh, Sweetie!" He was sitting close enough that she was able to take his hand. "You are a wonderful man, and any girl would be lucky to fall in love with you. It just won't be me."

"It's Mary Ann. She told me. Before she did anything with me."

She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad."

He nodded. "Me, too, but I don't know if I'm in love with her."

"Give it time."

"But I think Mrs. Howell expects us to get married right away."

"You know you don't have to do what Mrs. Howell says."

"I know but sometimes it's easier to do what people want."

"Is that why you let me give you lessons?"

This time he squeezed her hand. "I wanted it, too."

"Maybe you'll want to marry Mary Ann."

"Yeah, maybe. I need to go talk to her."

She nodded. "You do." She needed to talk to Mary Ann, too, but less urgently.

He hesitated and then leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. "Thank you. For everything. "

She almost gave a flirty reply out of habit, like "Any time" or "My pleasure." But she just said, "You're welcome."

Their hands let go. He stood up and walked over to the door. He turned as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't speak.

"Good luck."

He nodded, waved, and left.

She sighed and hugged her pillow, noticing it smelled faintly like the Professor. She needed to talk to the Professor, about the two of them, about Gilligan. She wondered if they shouldn't go public right away. She wouldn't want Gilligan to feel like she'd immediately replaced him. And the Professor was a very private person anyway. Also, she wasn't in any hurry to have Mrs. Howell interfere with her love life.

She was a little sleepy and considered taking a nap. Mary Ann wouldn't be back until after she talked to Gilligan presumably. Assuming that they were going to talk right then.

She thought of how Gilligan had come to see her after Mrs. Howell offered her—advice? Directive? Had that bothered Mary Ann or had she understood about Gilligan's unfinished business with Ginger? And where had Mary Ann gone to wait for Gilligan?

Perhaps she was making breakfast. Mary Ann was so conscientious, and unselfish. Ginger decided to go help her, and not just out of hunger.

She was startled to see Mr. Howell trying to make papaya juice. Judging from the state of the toast and eggs, he'd cooked them without assistance.

"Would you like some help?" she offered.

"Thank you, but I'm almost done."

She could've pretended she wasn't hungry, but she was hungry enough to eat bad cooking. And it wasn't as bad as she expected. To her relief, he didn't talk about her and Gilligan, or her and the Professor, or Gilligan and Mary Ann. He talked about real estate and golf and what he would do when they were rescued.

And after awhile, the Professor joined them.


	12. We?

After Mr. Howell politely refused her offer to help with breakfast, Mary Ann wasn't sure what to do with herself. She couldn't go back to her hut while Ginger and Gilligan were talking about all they had to talk about. She didn't want to wait for Gilligan at his hut, since that would be awkward if the Skipper was there. She certainly didn't want to go back to the Howells' hut and talk about her wedding!

That left the Professor's hut and she did want to talk to him, too. So she headed over there but found it was empty. She wondered where he'd gone, maybe for a walk, or maybe out collecting specimens. She decided to wait for him rather than wander in search of him.

She sat down, wondering how long it would be. She yawned. She looked longingly at the Professor's bed and then blushed as if someone were there to have seen that look. It wasn't that it was the bed belonging to the Professor, but that it was a bed and she really wanted to lie down and sleep. But she couldn't let the Professor, or anyone, find her lying in his bed, however innocently.

She decided to wait an hour at most and then return to her own hut. Surely that would be long enough for Gilligan and Ginger to say what they had to say. And if not, well, it was her hut, too, and they could find someplace else to talk.

She yawned again. The next thing she heard was the Professor's "Mary Ann?"

She shook herself. It seemed she'd fallen asleep sitting up in the chair. It was still daylight and she didn't think she'd been out for very long, but she felt almost as embarrassed as if she'd slept in his bed.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"It's all right. I think we all had a long night." And then, well, he didn't blush, because he never blushed, unlike Gilligan or even the Skipper, but he looked a little paler.

"Yes, um, can we talk about that a little?" Their last conversation had been awkward but necessary, and this one might be even more so.

"Well, uh, I did get a clarification about Ginger's intentions towards Gilligan."

"And?"

"Well, you should probably talk to her yourself, but I think it's fair to say that, although she's fond of Gilligan, the lessons were just lessons."

For some reason, she felt disappointed. Not that she wanted to fight Ginger for Gilligan, but it was such a waste that Gilligan fell for someone who didn't return his feelings. She would have more respect for Ginger if it hadn't just been physical.

Also, she wasn't sure this made things any simpler. As far she knew, Gilligan was still in love with Ginger, or thought he was. And now Ginger was probably rejecting him. Mary Ann would be the one picking up the pieces. She'd do it because she loved him, but she now wished he wouldn't be on the rebound.

"We have to move forward," the Professor said when she didn't reply. "Maybe things could've happened differently, more positively, but we have to work with what we have."

She nodded. It wasn't going to be easy, but she'd have to try. Then she realized something. "We?" She hadn't given much thought to the circumstances of the Professor's conversation with Ginger, but now she wondered. Had they talked last night during the storm, or this morning before Mary Ann and Gilligan returned? And had they just talked about Gilligan's romances, or had they also talked about the possibility of their own?

She wasn't sure how or if to ask. The Professor was such a private person and this was such a personal subject. In a way, it was none of her business, but it did affect her. Even if Ginger weren't sort of Gilligan's ex, she was Mary Ann's best friend. Despite all this with Gilligan, Mary Ann did want Ginger to be happy. And she cared about the Professor, too.

Also, how would Gilligan react if Ginger was involved with the Professor? He'd probably be hurt by it, even more than by a simple rejection. Mary Ann needed to know what was going on, but maybe it would be better to hear it from Ginger.

After a minute or two of neither of them speaking, he said, "We don't know how much longer we'll be on the island, but we need to make decisions that will work whether or not we're rescued.

"Mrs. Howell wants me to marry Gilligan!" she blurted out.

"Oh. Because of last night?"

"Yes. Not that she knows any details." She realized he didn't either, but he probably didn't want to.

"I see. Do you want to marry Gilligan?"

"Yes," she admitted. She'd wanted that since at least the time Mrs. Howell had tried to matchmake them. "But only if he wants to marry me. And not just because he thinks he has to."

The Professor stated the obvious, "You two need to talk."

"He's talking to Ginger right now."

"Ah, I wondered."

"I hoped you wouldn't mind if I waited here. And I did want to talk to you."

"I wanted to talk to you, too, make sure you're all right."

"I am," she said and realized she meant it. No matter what happened with Gilligan, or with Ginger, she'd be all right. Living on a farm and then this island had made her tougher and braver than anyone, including herself, gave her credit for. And it helped to know that she wasn't alone. Not that the Professor's situation was the same as hers, but it was closer than anyone else's on the island.

She was trying to figure out if and how she could ask how he felt about Ginger talking to Gilligan that morning, when someone knocked.

"Professor, have you seen Mary Ann?"


	13. Propose

Gilligan left the girls' hut as confused as when he went in. At least now he knew that Ginger didn't return his feelings and she wouldn't stand in the way of his marriage to Mary Ann, if there was a marriage.

He used to be scared of marriage. He was even scared when the Skipper wanted to practice performing the wedding ceremony with him and Mary Ann. He now remembered how eager she'd been to play bride, but he'd just figured that was because most girls wanted to get married, especially old-fashioned girls like Mary Ann.

He might've proposed to Ginger if she returned his feelings, but now that wasn't going to happen. He was pretty sure that Mary Ann would say yes, although maybe she would feel funny about it because he'd so recently been involved with Ginger. He wished that Mrs. Howell hadn't interfered, because then he would've had time to just date Mary Ann and figure out how he felt about her and what to do about it.

He supposed he could've kept seeing Ginger, since she didn't seem to mind him "cheating on her" with Mary Ann. But it wouldn't be the same, now that he knew it wouldn't lead anywhere emotionally for her. Not that she had promised him anything emotionally. She had offered to make him "the world's greatest lover," but lovemaking and loving weren't the same thing, he was learning.

And maybe she did love him in a way, not "in love" loving but caring about him as a person. She really was sweet, in a different way than Mary Ann, and he loved that side of her as much as the side that made him so happy physically.

Gilligan wanted both, emotional and physical. Mary Ann seemed to love him as much as he could ever want to be loved. And, despite her old-fashionedness, she was willing to be physical. She of course wasn't as skilled, as experienced, as Ginger, but maybe that didn't matter. He could teach her the little he knew and they could discover the rest together. That would be fun, whatever mistakes they made along the way. And it wasn't like he had to be the world's best lover for Mary Ann. She would've been fine with it if he'd come to her as inexperienced and ignorant as he was a couple weeks ago. She might even have preferred it.

Still, he didn't regret being with Ginger, no matter how things ended. And he was lucky to have another girl who wanted him. The question was, should he marry that other girl?

He could try to just date Mary Ann. He didn't want to end things when they were just starting, and their first date had been successful, despite the rocky start. But he didn't see how he could only date her, not when everyone knew that he'd been out with her all night. He had two choices, either break up with her or propose to her. Of the two, he preferred a proposal.

She might say no but at least he'd have tried. She'd been real quiet when Mrs. Howell was talking to him. She could've spoken up and said she didn't want to marry him, but maybe she didn't want to admit that in front of Mrs. Howell. She hadn't said much to him even when they were alone that morning. Maybe she regretted last night, for whatever reason.

Or maybe she thought he regretted it, since he'd told her about his feelings for Ginger. He didn't regret it. Even before he found out how Ginger felt, he somehow knew she'd be OK with the "cheating." When she sent him off with Mary Ann, she must've been giving her permission to whatever might happen. And if not, well, she'd probably forgive him for misunderstanding.

Maybe Mary Ann wanted to marry him but didn't want him to feel pressured into it, especially if he would rather marry Ginger. After all, she hadn't spoken up about Ginger's lessons, even when she knew the truth about them. It wasn't that she didn't care about him, but more that she cared enough that she wanted him to be happy. He needed to find out what would make her happy.

He needed to find her, talk to her. His stomach growled and he wondered if she was making breakfast like usual. If so, they wouldn't be able to talk much but they could arange to talk after breakfast.

He went to the kitchen area and found Mr. Howell burning toast. He normally would've been surprised by this but with all the surprises he had lately, this barely registered.

"Hi, Mr. Howell. Have you seen Mary Ann?" Breakfast didn't seem important anymore.

"Yes, My Boy, she was heading in that direction." He pointed towards the Professor's hut and then waved some of the smoke away.

"Thanks, Mr. Howell."

Gilligan didn't know why Mary Ann would go to the Professor's hut, other than for advice. The Professor was real smart. But he didn't know much about love and stuff. Well, who else could she talk to about this? And maybe the Professor being so unemotional and so uninvolved was a bonus, like confiding in a clergyman or a head-shrinker. (The psychology kind, not the kind that would visit the island.)

He went to the Professor's hut, knocked, and asked if the Professor had seen Mary Ann. After all, Mr. Howell could've been wrong about her destination, or she could've been going that way but not to this hut. Besides, it felt rude to just barge in, especially if they were talking about him.

"Yes, Gilligan."

"Oh, good."

He waited for the Professor to tell him to come in, or for Mary Ann to speak up, but instead, after a couple whispers, the Professor opened the door and told Gilligan, "I'm going for a walk. I, uh, need to collect specimens."

"OK, Professor. See you later."

The Professor waved and walked past Gilligan, who peered in the open door. Mary Ann was sitting in a chair, looking nervous, which made him even more nervous. He took a deep breath and then stepped in, closing the door behind him. He walked over and knelt next to the chair. Then he remembered from all those movies that it was just supposed to be one knee, so he shifted. He felt a little bit like he was going to be knighted, although Mary Ann didn't have a sword.

He thought he was supposed to take her hand, but he couldn't because she'd put both hands to her mouth as if she couldn't believe this was happening. Well, the important thing was what he'd say. So he blurted out, "Will you marry me, Mary Ann?"

She burst into tears. Gilligan was as confused as when he went into her hut and when he came out.


	14. Bigger Boat

For over two years, Mary Ann had thought about what it would be like to marry Gilligan. But now that he had actually proposed, she burst into tears, not just happy tears.

There was a part of her that was happy of course but mostly she was worried that he was doing this because Ginger rejected him, or because Mrs. Howell had told him to.

"Oh, Mary Ann, don't cry! I'm sorry, you don't have to marry me!"

She couldn't help smiling a little. "I want to, Gilligan, if you're sure you want to."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"But what about Ginger?"

"She'd probably be your maid of honor if you asked her."

"No, I mean, well, don't you want to marry Ginger?"

He sighed. "Maybe yesterday but not now. She doesn't think about me that way, so that changes how I think about her."

"But, Gilligan, I don't want to be the runner-up!"

"Oh, Mary Ann, I didn't mean that! It's just, well, I think you and I have a future but Ginger and I don't."

"Oh." She had to think about that. Ginger rejecting him clearly influenced him, but maybe Mary Ann wasn't just the rebound girl. "Why do you think we have a future?"

"Well, we get along really well and we enjoy spending time together. And I have a lot more in common with you than I do with Ginger."

"OK. But what about when we leave the island?"

He shrugged. "Well, I'd like to keep working for the Skipper, and Ginger probably would've wanted to go back to her acting career. But maybe you'd want to live in Hawaii instead of Kansas. Or if you really wanted to go back to your uncle's farm, well, I like animals, so I could help out there. I'd fit in better in Horner's Corners than Hollywood."

She definitely smiled now. "I'd like that, either Hawaii or Kansas." She sighed. "But meanwhile, we're here and it's going to be awkward being around Ginger."

"Maybe. But it would've been awkward no matter how things ended with me and her. And she was real nice about everything. It's not like she's going to make trouble for us."

"Well, no, but she is sort of your ex-girlfriend."

"Yeah, I guess. But not everyone knows that."

She wasn't sure who didn't, other than probably Mrs. Howell, but she decided not to point that out. "Yes, but you were involved with her so recently, and then you're rushing into not just dating me but maybe getting engaged."

"I know this has all happened kind of fast, but then almost nothing happened for three years!"

This time she had to laugh. "True. I don't know, I guess we can't just go steady after everything that's happened, can we?"

"Probably not. So let's get engaged and then if it turns out we don't want to get married, well, it'll be awkward but OK."

"But Mrs. Howell thinks you have to do the honorable thing and marry me. And we do have to live on the island with her, so how would we get around that?"

"Oh. Well, how about we get married and then if we don't get along, I'll go and live on the other side of the island?"

"Oh, Gilligan!" She leaned down and kissed him, even though that was the worst proposal she'd ever heard, and that included a few on the radio soap opera _Old Dr. Young._

"Is that a yes?" he asked after the kiss.

She nodded.

"Then can we go get breakfast now? I'm starving enough to eat even Mr. Howell's cooking."

She laughed. "Me, too."

He handed her his handkerchief and she dried her eyes. Then they got to their feet and left the Professor's hut together. They didn't hold hands, but they didn't know who else would be at breakfast besides Mr. Howell.

It turned out everyone was. Ten eyes looked at them when they came over to the table. Mary Ann didn't know what to say, so she waited for Gilligan to blurt something out.

But Mrs. Howell spoke first, "Skipper, how big a boat would we need?"

"Uh, to get off the island? Well, it would depend on the wind and—"

"No, no, for the ceremony. I don't want a little raft like we had for Thurston and I. The boat should be sturdy and able to hold all seven of us."

"Uh, yeah, I'll get started on that right after breakfast."

She missed his sarcasm. "Wonderful! How long will that take?"

He looked at Gilligan. "Uh, two weeks?"

"I'll help you, Skipper."  
"Thanks, Little Buddy."

So Mary Ann and Gilligan didn't actually announce their engagement. It was just assumed. So no one congratulated them that morning. She was disappointed of course, wanting to celebrate this magic moment, but in a way she was relieved. These weren't normal circumstances for an engagement.

They sat down and ate. Gilligan was as hungry as ever, but Mary Ann had lost most of her appetite, and not just because of Mr. Howell's cooking. Maybe by the time she ate lunch, she'd be more in the mood for food.

After breakfast, Ginger said, "Mary Ann, we need to figure out what hairdo you'll wear in a couple weeks."

"Uh, right." She didn't really care at that moment whether or not she got married in ponytails, but she knew she would on her wedding day.

"Excuse us, Gentlemen. Mrs. Howell," Ginger said and got up from the table.

"What a pity that Pierre isn't here on the island," Mrs. Howell said. Mary Ann assumed that Pierre was Mrs. Howell's personal beautician, but she didn't feel like asking right then.

"Excuse me," she mumbled and got up to follow Ginger to their hut.

After she shut the door, Mary Ann asked, "I'll understand if you say no, but would you like to be my maid of honor?"

"Oh, Honey, I'd love to!"

"You won't feel funny about it, considering what happened with Gilligan?"

Ginger smiled. "I wanted him to learn about romance. He obviously did."

Mary Ann frowned. "It wasn't a very romantic proposal."

"Well, we didn't cover proposals."

Mary Ann shook her head but smiled a little.

"It's probably going to be more awkward for the Professor to be best man."

"The Professor?"  
"Well, the Skipper will be performing the ceremony, and Mr. Howell will probably play father of the bride. That leaves the Professor."

"Oh, right. But why would that be awkward?" It would be worse for the Professor if he had to stand up for Gilligan marrying Ginger.

"Um, let's just say that I don't think we'll be going public before the wedding."

Mary Ann wanted to ask what exactly Ginger meant by that but she understood if Ginger wanted to be coy. It seemed that Ginger was involved with or at least had the potential to be involved with the Professor now that Gilligan was no longer a factor for her. Mary Ann decided this was not the moment to pry. Ginger would talk when she was ready.

"What do you think of a bouffant?" Mary Ann asked.


	15. Ceremonies

PART TWO

The Skipper looked fondly at _The Minnow II,_ as she was christened, by Mrs. Howell with one of the Howells' remaining champagne bottles. The heiress was dressed in her finest, for the christening and for the wedding, a wedding that was the fulfillment of one of her fondest dreams. The Skipper had mixed feelings about the wedding, especially since Gilligan was so recently involved with Ginger, but he was fond of Mary Ann and wished the young couple all the best.

He had no such mixed feelings about his new boat. She was smaller than the first _Minnow_ and probably not seaworthy, but she was definitely lagoon-worthy. The cabin downstairs was smaller and so was the deck, but the seven of them could easily fit on board for a short wedding ceremony. They used parts of the wreck of the first _Minnow_ , and lumber from the island.

It had ended up being not just him and Gilligan, but all seven of the castaways helping to build a boat in two weeks. Not that the Howells contributed much in the way of labor, but they did contribute supplies, particularly for the decorations. The Skipper just wanted to slap some white paint on the exterior and carefully letter "M-I-N-N-O-W-I-I" in black, but the Howells thought the cabin should be pleasant, since Mary Ann and Mr. Howell would be waiting there before making their entrance.

The boat did look good and the Skipper wished that he could take her out and show her off to the world. He wished that they had made her bigger and stronger, or made her years ago, but maybe it needed the motivation of this wedding to get everyone off their duff and contributing. Perhaps she could be modified into a seaworthy _Minnow III_ , but that could wait until after they built a hut for the newlyweds.

Gilligan and Mary Ann were going to have their honeymoon in a cave, the same cave where they spent one stormy, fateful night. Meanwhile, the Skipper and the Professor would build a new hut for just the Skipper. He would miss rooming with Gilligan but he'd always known it couldn't last forever. And he'd probably sleep better at night without Gilligan around. (It was definitely a case of "can't live with him, can't live without him.")

Mary Ann would move into the sailors' hut. The Skipper would need to make them a king-sized bed, since hammocks weren't going to work, and he couldn't picture them going for separate beds like the Howells had. It would be interesting having a young married couple on the island and, unlike with the Howells, it raised the possibility of babies on the island. The Skipper didn't want them to rush into parenthood like they were rushing into marriage, but in a few years it'd be nice to be Uncle Jonas.

After the christening, the tiny ship was launched. It was a typically lovely day on the island, the height of summer but cooler than some days the Skipper had seen in Hawaii and elsewhere in the Pacific. It would've been nice to say there wasn't a cloud in the sky but his sailor's eye spotted black clouds in the distance. Another storm might hit in a day or two, although the honeymooners probably wouldn't care. They'd be snug in their cave, snuggled into a big sleeping bag this time.

The women went down to the cabin so that Mary Ann could change into her bridal gown, an heirloom that Mrs. Howell was cheerfully passing on to this girl who, despite their very different backgrounds, was like a daughter to her. Gilligan put one of Mr. Howell's tuxedos over his red rugby shirt and bellbottoms. But the Skipper didn't think that was the only reason Gilligan was sweating.

"Nervous, Little Buddy?" the Skipper asked as he tied Gilligan's tie for him.

"Well, yeah, but grooms are supposed to be nervous, so I think it's normal."

The Skipper chuckled. He loved Gilligan but would never describe him as "normal."

"Were you nervous, Mr. Howell?" Gilligan asked.

"More the second time, but we were on a very shaky craft."

The Skipper assumed that Mr. Howell was speaking literally rather than figuratively, although the Howells' marriage wasn't exactly that solid either. Still, they did love each other after more than twenty years and he did envy them at times. However, he was used to being a bachelor and probably always would be one, whether or not they ever got rescued.

The Skipper wondered if the Professor and Ginger would get together now. He still remembered their passionate kiss in the movie that was supposed to get them rescued. The Professor was unlikely to hold Ginger's past with Gilligan, or anyone else, against her, but he was a difficult guy to read. Well, the Skipper would perform another wedding ceremony if he had to but that would be it. Well, OK, if Gilligan and Mary Ann had a son who grew up to fall in love with the Professor and Ginger's daughter, and they were all still stuck on this island, then sure, the Skipper would officiate in twenty or thirty years, whether or not Mrs. Howell pushed them all into it.

Mrs. Howell came up and said, "She's ready, Thurston."

"Thank you, Lovey." He kissed his wife's cheek and then went down to the cabin.

The Professor put down the needle and the bamboo record player began to play the wedding march. The procession would be short, as would the ceremony, but he knew that Mrs. Howell and the girls needed a little pomp with their ceremony. And the Skipper had to admit that it was fun to go to a wedding, even one he was officiating at. He hadn't married many people at sea, so there was still some novelty to that.

Ginger came upstairs first, as maid of honor. She was as beautiful as ever, in a rose pink dress that somehow didn't clash with the red flower in her fiery hair. The Skipper would always have a crush on her, but, although he now knew her as a girl with flaws and strengths like anyone else, she would always be the unattainable movie star for him. When she emerged from the cabin, she looked like an actress playing the part of a maid of honor, but it was an impressive and possibly sincere performance.

Then he caught her turning aside to wipe away a tear out of sight of the Professor and Gilligan. Did she have regrets about giving Gilligan up to Mary Ann? Or was that a happy tear? Or did she just have a cold? He couldn't ask of course, not then, maybe ever.

When she faced them again, she was beaming. He smiled encouragingly back at her and she winked at him. He would never understand her, but his smile turned into a grin nonetheless.

She went and stood next to Mrs. Howell. They hadn't bothered with deck chairs. This wouldn't take that long, and there wasn't much of an "audience."

There was a lull and then the Professor seemed to realize that the march was too long for this ensemble. He sped up the record player from 45 to 78 RPM. Then they finally got to the part where Mr. Howell could poke his head out of the cabin and stage-whisper, "Well, Mary Ahn, that's our cue!"

The Skipper snorted and decided that this was already his favorite wedding he'd ever attended.


	16. Objections

Thurston Howell III still had his doubts about this marriage, but he had no doubts about the wedding. He enjoyed dressing up and there would be the reception at the beach afterwards. If these two young idiots wanted to get married, well, that was their choice, since they could've stood up to Lovey if they truly objected.

Not that Thurston had any objections to marriage himself. And under other circumstances, he'd be all for this marriage. But not so soon after Gilligan's dalliance with Ginger. Let the boy have time to figure out how he really felt about Mary Ann.

Yet, he understood his wife's point of view and it had merit. Propriety was important and if they were ever rescued and Mary Ann's family found out she'd been alone all night in a cave with Gilligan, well, Thurston didn't know if "Uncle George" owned a shotgun, but he would certainly run out and get one.

Even if they weren't rescued, Lovey was going to worry about what was proper and how things looked. Also, she'd wanted the youngsters to get married for ages, so she was probably happy in a way that they "had to get married," no matter how much she fretted. She'd probably turn her sights to the Professor and Ginger once the excitement of this wedding died down.

At least the other couple—if they were a couple, and Thurston had obviously had his doubts over the years, particularly with the Ginger & Gilligan misalliance—would not rush into things. The Professor was too intelligent and Ginger too savvy for them to be caught in a compromising position. They would likely take things slow, since there was no real need to hurry, especially so soon after her previously mentioned misalliance.

Furthermore, they were both much less pliable than Gilligan and Mary Ann, who both tended to go along with what people asked, even if they'd quietly grumble about it. The Professor was an incorruptible man of integrity, insusceptible to influence, including the influence of his own emotions if they contradicted logic. And, Ginger, ah, Ginger could've been a politician or a spy. She had a talent for getting what she wanted without anyone, except sometimes other women, resenting it. It was partly charm and feminine wiles but it was also an expert chess-player's ability to see the whole board and know that every man was essentially a pawn.

Lovey was not so easily manipulated, and she had own methods of manipulation. But Thurston suspected that this might be a battle that Ginger wouldn't mind losing. If Lovey tried to push Ginger into marrying the Professor, Ginger might not want to fight it. As for the Professor, well, that remained to be seen.

Thurston looked at Ginger in her rose pink maid of honor gown and thought that it would take a stronger man than the Professor to resist her. But, really, who could understand eggheads?

The wedding march started. Ginger gave Mary Ann a quick hug, said, "See you soon, Sweetie," and headed up from the cabin.

"Nervous?" Thurston asked the girl in white.

"A little. Were you nervous, Mr. Howell?"

It perhaps was odd that he was playing father of the bride to a girl who was so formal to him. But this was one of the proprieties he liked. Although he was in his own way fond of the other castaways and believed that they had formed an ad hoc family on the island, there was no denying that they all came from different backgrounds, none more so than the millionaire and the little farm girl. Even on the island, without the millions of people in the U.S. and all the layers of the social strata, there was that unbridgeable gulf. Even in Lovey's wedding dress, she wasn't really his "daughter." They were just play-acting.

Still, they were both human beings and he could come down from his pedestal for a moment. "I was. Not about marrying Lovey, I had no doubts there." (At least none he remembered after twenty-ish years.) "But there were so many people at our wedding, many of whom I hardly knew. I had a bit of stage fright, but I got over it." He didn't mention that he'd had a drink before the ceremony. He wouldn't recommend that in her case, even if there were alcohol on board. (The champagne was smashed on the bow, so they couldn't get smashed on that.) Her body mass was much smaller than his, even than his in '44.

She smiled a little. "Well, I think I can face the crowd today."

He thought of saying, "I'll be at your side," but he wasn't going to pretend that he was the support a real father, or her uncle, would've been.

There was an awkward silence, except for the sound of the wedding march, which never seemed so long at all the weddings Thurston had been to. The Professor must've felt the same, because the record player sped up. Finally it got to their cue and it was time to make their not so grand entrance.

The staircase was narrow so he ended up appearing first. When she emerged, the others gasped and murmured at her beauty. Thurston realized he'd taken it for granted all these years, because she wasn't as sophisticated as Ginger or Lovey. But in her own way, she had a fresh-faced loveliness, which the veil enhanced.

He beamed at her, not quite paternally but it'd do for the pictures Lovey was snapping with her gold-plated camera. He held out his arm and Mary Ann took it for the short walk to the "altar." Then he let go and kissed her cheek. He went over to stand next to Lovey.

Despite the unusual circumstances, it was a standard wedding. Until they got to "Speak now or forever hold your peace." Thurston was pretty sure none of the castaways would speak up, especially not the bride or groom. Any reservations would remain unspoken.

But then there was a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder. It wasn't a religious ceremony, because the Skipper was not a man of God. Yet he and the other six looked up to the sky as if God had spoken. The sky replied by crying.

Thurston looked over at the canoes that were tied to the _Minnow II._ There was probably enough time to get back to shore before the rain got too heavy. But that would mean delaying the wedding, and that would break at least Lovey's heart.

"Captain, shall we continue in the salon?"

"Uh, yeah, good idea."

So they all went down the narrow staircase to the tiny cabin.


	17. Options

It wasn't exactly the wedding Lovey Howell had imagined all this time. The seven of them were crowded into the tiny cabin as rain pattered on deck. But the storm would clear, as had the storm that had brought on this marriage and hopefully the young people would have sunny days from then on.

The Skipper was now bellowing out the vows for them to repeat, trying to drown out the thunder. Gilligan's voice was breaking as he echoed his captain, although Gilligan was about a decade past puberty. Mary Ann's voice was faint at first but by the end she sounded like she was calling hogs. "...FOR RICHER, FOR POORER..."

Of course, Gilligan and Mary Ann were unlikely to get richer or poorer on the island, unlike Thurston, whose investments fluctuated over time, which was why the financial news was one of his favorite radio programs. But once they all got rescued, Gilligan would probably do his best to financially support Mary Ann, who in turn would emotionally support him. The farm girl was of good, sturdy, sensible Kansas stock and would balance Gilligan's flightiness.

There had been points when Lovey had considered matching Mary Ann with the Professor, but two sensible people didn't need each other. The Professor was more suited to Ginger, needing the actress to liven him up. Also, although Lovey disapproved of marriages based on carnal impulses, she was not one to deny that physical attraction was an important element, and a blind man could see that the academic and the actress had that.

Once the excitement of this wedding died down, she'd devote more energy to matchmaking the Professor and Ginger. That would just leave the Skipper single and she wasn't sure if the long-time bachelor wanted to be married. Still, you never knew who might land on their island next. Or once they were rescued, he would have many more options.

"...I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU MAN AND WIFE. YOU MAY NOW KISS THE BRIDE!"

Gilligan looked self-conscious, leaning in for a kiss when the other five castaways were watching from such a close distance. But Mary Ann puckered up and met him halfway. It was quite a kiss, ended only by the lurching of the tiny ship.

Lovey clutched Thurston's arm. He looked like he was trying to be strong and brave for her, but his eyes showed he wanted Teddy. The bear was safely ashore, resting on Thurston's pillow.

"Skipper, are we in danger?" the Professor asked.

"WE'RE FINE! THE LAGOON ISN'T AS STORMY AS THE OPEN SEA. WE'LL GET TOSSED AROUND A LITTLE BUT THE ANCHOR WILL HOLD US IN PLACE."

"Anchor?!" Gilligan squeaked.

The Skipper glared at him. "YOU FORGOT THE ANCHOR?"

"I had a lot on my mind."

Lovey wanted to laugh, although she knew that that would only infuriate the captain further.

"Let's all keep calm," the Professor said, although he looked uneasy himself. "We don't know how big a storm this will be and what effect it will have."

"Maybe we should make a run for the canoes," Ginger suggested.

The Skipper looked like he wanted to bellow, "IF GILLIGAN EVEN TIED UP THE CANOES RIGHT!", but then remembered he'd taken care of that himself. "EVERYBODY, STAY HERE!" he shouted and headed up the stairs.

"Where would we go?" Thurston murmured for Lovey's ears only.

"I'm sorry," Gilligan said.

"We don't blame you, Dear Boy," Lovey said, although she knew that she might be speaking only for herself. Well, Mary Ann probably believed in Gilligan, like always.

The Skipper came down, the door slamming behind him, from the wind rather than the captain it seemed. He "battened down the hatches" or whatever it was called when he locked the door. "ONE OF THE CANOES BROKE LOOSE! AND I DON'T THINK WE SHOULD RISK TRYING TO CROWD INTO THE ONE THAT'S LEFT!"

"We can wait out the storm in here," the Professor said.

The Skipper looked like he wanted to argue but couldn't with such common sense. They didn't have any other options.

Lovey sank onto the sofa, Thurston joining her a moment later. The others climbed onto barstools, which were wobbly as the boat began to rock. After a few minutes, Gilligan sat on the floor. Mary Ann joined him.

"What now?" Ginger asked.

"We wait," the Professor answered, as if she'd been asking him. Well, maybe she was.

Lovey thought of suggesting charades or some other party game, but she didn't think it was a good idea to stand up with the boat rocking. And even a word game was difficult with the noise of the storm.

Thurston held her hand, which was very comforting. Gilligan hesitated and then put his arm around Mary Ann, who nestled against him. Ginger and the Professor were now very carefully not looking at each other.

The Skipper sighed and staggered over to a window. "WE'RE LEAVING THE LAGOON!"

"What?" both Ginger and the Professor exclaimed, leaping to their feet. They wobbled over to join the Skipper at the window.

"Is it true?" asked Mary Ann, who hadn't spoken since the end of the wedding ceremony.

Ginger nodded and swallowed. "We're heading towards the open sea."

"That's good though, isn't it?" Lovey asked. "Maybe we'll get rescued."

The Skipper shook his head. "It's different this time. Last time, you all brought changes of clothes and other personal items. We've left everything behind on the island."

"Teddy!" Thurston cried.

"There, there, Darling," Lovey murmured, patting his arm with her other hand.

"Also, there was food on board," the Professor pointed out. "Because you served passengers lunch. We had enough to eat on the way to our island."

It felt strange to hear "our island," as if they were really leaving what had been their home for three years.

"We might have some canned stuff," Gilligan said. "I mean that hasn't expired after three years."

Lovey shuddered. She hadn't exactly dined well on the island but she'd never starved. The idea of living on Spam and the like for a week or more, hoping not to get botulism, made her nostalgic for one of Mary Ann's tropical concoctions.

"Maybe the storm will land us back on the island," Mary Ann said, as if trying to be optimistic.

"Maybe," the Skipper said, as if he doubted it. "But meanwhile, the Professor's right. All we can do is wait." He went back to his barstool but Ginger and the Professor clung to the wall as the ship was again tossed about.

It was going to be a long wait. Lovey decided to occupy her mind by imagining them all being rescued tomorrow, or however long it would take to reach the shipping lanes. She would then spend a week in a spa before returning home to one of the Howell mansions. She and Thurston would see all their friends and he would get his hand firmly on the tiller of his companies, if that was the right metaphor.

And maybe in a year or so, with Lovey's nudging, Professor Hinkley would be the groom at a Hollywood wedding. Lovey imagined that, the flowers, the music, the celebrities, and the clothes, not just Ginger's gown but her own chic ensemble. The millionaire's wife daydreamed until the tiny ship rocked her to sleep.


	18. Spam

This wasn't exactly how Mary Ann had pictured her wedding night. Not only wasn't she alone with Gilligan, but they were crowded with their five friends into the cabin of a tiny ship that was being rocked by a storm. There was nothing romantic about it, other than cuddling with Gilligan, and that was partly out of fear.

Still, at least they had each other. She and Gilligan, and she and the six other castaways. They would weather this storm, as they'd weathered other storms, real and symbolic. It was much better than being alone.

She prayed that they would all live through the night, live through the storm, and arrive somewhere safely before the canned food ran out. (Some Spam which wouldn't expire until 1970 had been dinner.) She wouldn't mind if they landed back on their island. At least they'd be able to have their belongings again and sort of resume their lives from before.

But they were now out on the open sea. There was a chance they might be rescued. She knew it might not happen, but it could. She let herself imagine a much bigger ship. The people on board would speak English, or maybe some language the Professor knew. They would be sympathetic to the castaways. Maybe they'd have heard of the _M_ _innow_ , the first _M_ _innow_ , being lost at sea three years before. Or maybe the story would be brand new to them.

Their rescuers would take them to Hawaii. And then the tight-knit group of seven would start to splinter. The Howells would go to one or more of their mansions and probably try to forget their years of living among the "lower classes." Well, Mrs. Howell would make a token effort to keep in touch, but it wouldn't be the same.

And what about Ginger? The girls had been best friends because of circumstance, but wouldn't Ginger drop her like a hot potato once she was back in Hollywood? And their rivalry or whatever it had been over Gilligan still made things awkward. Maybe it would be easier with a long-distance friendship.

The Professor at least wouldn't go back to a more glamorous lifestyle. He'd probably return to his ivory tower and forget about all of them, not because he had more impressive friends but because he didn't really need other people.

Not like the Skipper. He would want to stay in touch of course. But would he let Gilligan go? Would he accept that Gilligan was a grown man with a life of his own? Or would Gilligan just fall into his old role as the Skipper's sidekick? Maybe Gilligan would want to stay in Hawaii, working with the Skipper. And she as Gilligan's wife would become a part of that life.

There were definitely worse ways to live. But what about her uncle's farm? Wouldn't her family expect her to come home as soon as she could? Uncle George could use an energetic young man like Willy Gilligan.

She smiled at her sleeping groom. He'd warned her ahead of time about his real first name. He didn't want her to be surprised during the ceremony. It made sense that Gilligan wasn't his first name. Captain Grumby had known the young seaman as Gilligan and that was how he continued to refer to him even after they left the Navy.

Mary Ann had trouble thinking of her new husband as Willy. He would always be Gilligan to her, even if she was now Mrs. Gilligan.

She sighed and reminded herself that the important thing was she'd finally married Gilligan. She had no way of knowing the future, but at least it would be with Gilligan.

She drifted off to sleep with her head on his shoulder.

...

Mary Ann was the last to fall asleep and she thought she was the first to wake up. She would've slept longer if she could. But a wave of nausea hit her, ending her dream of being in the middle of a Kansas cyclone. But the swirliness was water, not air.

She hoped they weren't in a whirlpool, sucking them into the ocean. No, the movements of the ship didn't feel regular enough for that, not that she was an expert, especially in her sleepy state.

Anyway she could ask the Skipper and the Professor about it later. Right now she had to listen to her stomach, which was telling her to get rid of the Spam.

She carefully stepped around the sleeping bodies on the floor and made her way to the head. The Skipper had argued that even though the _Minnow II_ wasn't meant to be a seagoing vessel, he wanted her as complete as they had time for. So there was a galley with the leftover cans from the first _Minnow_. There was a couch, high counter, and bar stools. And there was a small restroom with a mirror where Ginger had fixed Mary Ann's hair yesterday afternoon.

There was a toilet, too, and, although she felt guilty about it, she could vomit into that. The others would understand. She couldn't help being seasick, and she probably wouldn't be the only one before they arrived at their unknown destination.

The door was locked. She didn't want to knock and wake anyone, but she didn't know how much longer she could keep the bile in.

She looked around the room. The Howells still claimed the couch. Gilligan was where she'd left him. The Professor was curled up in a corner. And the Skipper was sprawled across the stairs. His large, strong body was guarding them, as if he could save them from the storm. And maybe he was like a guard who was keeping them from escaping the cabin and braving the storm.

The ship and her stomach both lurched. She felt like she couldn't wait any longer for Ginger and was ready to bang on the door, loud enough to be heard in the storm. What was Ginger doing in there anyway, glamming herself up?

Mary Ann had just raised her fist when the door opened. Ginger's unmade-up eyes widened and then she beckoned Mary Ann in. Mary Ann hesitated and then entered, closing the door behind her, although she planned to kick Ginger out as soon as possible.


	19. Embarazada

Ginger hoped everyone was still sleeping. She was embarrassed that she had just vomited. It wasn't exactly the action of a glamorous actress. She hadn't suffered from seasickness on the voyage to their island and she was usually fine on movies that were set around water, like _The Hula Girl and the Fullback._

She wasn't sure if flushing would draw more attention to it, but she couldn't just leave the vomit in the bowl. She decided to peek out and see if everyone else was still asleep. The first thing she saw was Mary Ann's raised fist. She was startled for a moment and then silently beckoned her friend in. She waited until Mary Ann closed the door before she flushed.

"Sorry about that. I have an upset stomach." It was less humiliating to let Mary Ann see this side of her than anyone else. After all, the girls had menstrual cycles in sync, which was about as personal as it got.

Mary Ann's expression was a mixture of sympathy and annoyance. "I'm sorry. But so do I. So please leave."

"I can hold your hair while you throw up." She realized she needed to talk to Mary Ann and the "head" might be the most privacy they'd have for the next few days.

"Fine," Mary Ann spat out and stumbled over to the toilet.

Ginger hid a smile. She knew that Mary Ann wasn't drunk but was lurching because of the storm, yet it made Ginger think of wild parties when she first came to Hollywood and her roommate, Debbie Dawson, drank too much. Ginger liked a cocktail now and then but she knew that drinking too much was a bad idea, for many reasons, some personal and some professional.

Mary Ann hardly ever drank any alcohol, in Kansas or on their island. But Ginger could now picture a little what she'd be like the morning after, including the irritability. Unless that was due to something else.

Mary Ann slumped to the floor so Ginger knelt beside her and indeed held back the dark hair that had come loose from the bridal style that Ginger had carefully crafted the day before. Poor little Mary Ann. She should've been disheveled from her wedding night, not cooped up in a tiny ship with the rest of them, headed who knows where. As sorry as Ginger felt for herself— and her situation wasn't exactly a happy one— she felt sorrier for her friend.

Ginger had vomited as quietly as she could but poor Mary Ann had been holding it in longer and once it came out, it was louder and messier.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled afterwards.

"It's not your fault," Ginger said and helped her to her feet.

"Do you think anyone heard?"

Ginger shrugged. "Maybe not over the storm." She led Mary Ann over to the sink and both girls tidied up. She thought of how unladylike it was to vomit and that Mrs. Howell would probably have a servant do it for her.

"Why are you smiling?"

"It's nothing."

"I don't remember being this seasick last time."

"Me neither."

"Maybe it's the Spam."

Ginger smiled again, although she didn't think Mary Ann was trying to be funny. "Maybe." Then she frowned. "Or maybe it's something else."

"What do you mean?"

Ginger took a deep breath. "Have you got your monthly visitor yet?"

"Well, no, but I figured that was because of my nerves about the wedding and everything."

"I haven't got mine either."

"Oh. Oh! OH!"

Ginger wanted to laugh as it sank in for Mary Ann, first that neither of them had got their period, then that that meant that they might be pregnant, and finally that it might be by the same man. But, although this would be farcical in a movie, maybe a European comedy, unless American movies had changed more than she realized in the past three years, it was a little scary in real life.

"This isn't necessarily morning sickness. I don't know enough about it and none of my girlfriends in Hollywood ever got pregnant, that I know of."

Mary Ann nodded. "I had friends who married right out of high school, but the few that got pregnant before I left, well, in Horner's Corners, married ladies don't tell single ladies about things like that."

Ginger remembered that Mary Ann came from a much more old-fashioned world than she did, but even in Hollywood, an unwed pregnancy, particularly if the father was someone else's newly wedded husband, would be scandalous. Explaining the circumstances of such a conception wouldn't exactly help.

"Oh, Ginger, what are we going to do?"

Before she could reply, someone knocked on the door. "Are you girls OK?"

"Just a little queasy, Skipper," Ginger answered. "From the storm." She didn't feel like she was lying, because there was more than one kind of storm here.

"Sorry about that. When things settle down a bit, I'm going to try to steer the ship, or at least get our bearings."

"Thank you."

Mary Ann waited until the Skipper had time to step away from the door before she said, "Do you think he heard us?"

"Um, he might've heard you throwing up, but I doubt he heard us talking."

"I'd be so embarrassed if the others found out!"

"Well, I guess it depends on when and where we land."

Mary Ann nodded. "If it's just a week or less until we're in Hawaii, no one has to know."

Ginger sighed. "Unless we end up marooned on another island."

Mary Ann frowned. "I hadn't thought of that. I'd rather we go back to ours. At least we're used to it."

Ginger smiled. "Well, I think it would be nice to have our clothes and other belongings back, but it could never be like before. Even if we're not, you know."

Mary Ann sighed. "Yeah. Oh, Ginger, what if we are?"

"Well, let's not get more upset about this than we have to. Worry won't encourage Aunt Flo to visit."

Mary Ann smiled a little. "I'll try. It's just, well, if I'm going to have a baby, at least I'm married. But you, well."

"Don't worry about me. Not until you have to." Ginger didn't say that Gilligan wasn't necessarily the father, if she was pregnant, which it was too soon to tell.

"I just feel so guilty."

Ginger was about to ask if Mary Ann felt guilty about having sex out of wedlock or about marrying the possible father of Ginger's possible baby, but then someone else knocked. Mary Ann blushed with embarrassment.


	20. Struggle

The Professor slept badly but he slept. He woke to the sound, somewhat obscured by the storm, of someone vomiting. He scanned the room in the early morning light. He saw the Howells on the sofa and Gilligan on the floor. The Skipper was sitting up from his station on the stairs. Were the girls all right?

The Skipper went over and asked before the Professor could. Ginger replied that both girls were nauseous, which was understandable. The Professor's stomach also felt unsettled, although not yet rebellious.

He felt bad for Mary Ann and Gilligan not getting a real honeymoon, but in the bigger picture, they were all lucky to be alive, so far. He could be selfish and think about how his romance with Ginger was stalled by waiting for enough time to pass after her involvement with Gilligan, but this storm had complicated matters even more than the one that had led to yesterday's wedding.

He had no idea where they were going. It could be Hawaii. It could be the bottom of the sea. It could be their island or another island. He had no idea how long it would take to get there. He didn't know if the food would last, or if they would survive the food. He didn't know if the stress of being cooped up in a small space would destroy them, considering how tempers had flared on the island, where at least they could get away from each other when they needed to.

It would be interesting as a scientific experiment, but they weren't lab rats. They were people he cared about who he didn't want to see suffer. He wanted to protect them, as he'd tried to on the island, but he wasn't sure how.

The Skipper went back to the stairs and lay down again. The Professor wondered if he should check on the girls, too. After all, Ginger was his secret girlfriend. Besides that, he cared about both girls as people. And as the closest thing the castaways had to a doctor, maybe he could help medically, despite the limited resources on the boat.

He got to his feet and knocked. No one immediately answered. "Uh, hello?"

Ginger was the one to reply again. "Yes, Professor?"

"Um, everything all right?"

"Yes, we'll be out in a minute."

"No rush." He stepped away from the door and went over to a window. It was hard to tell but the storm didn't seem as bad as yesterday or last night.

The Skipper joined him and said, "I think it'll be all right."

The Professor nodded. "There's a chance that we'll reach land, not necessarily our island and probably not Hawaii. But there are other islands we could reach, if you factor in the number of natives who've visited us and the speed of canoe travel and—"

The Skipper snorted. "Yeah, thanks." He stepped away from the window.

The Professor continued to watch the swirling sky and sea until the girls emerged from the lavatory. He turned to look at them. Ginger was paler than usual but maybe that was because she wasn't wearing makeup. She was still beautiful to him, maybe because she looked less glamorous and more approachable, more human. Not that he wanted her to vomit on a regular basis of course.

He wished he could give her a comforting hug, but he felt inhibited in front of the others, as he had been these past two weeks. Maybe they could be alone together, just for a moment, sometime, although not necessarily on this tiny ship.

Her eyes met his and he couldn't read them. He'd never been very good at understanding women, especially her. Everything else he'd studied eventually made sense to him, but not women, especially her.

Ginger went back to the part of the floor where she'd slept. The Professor wanted to sit next to her, but he didn't want to draw anyone's attention. And he wasn't sure if she wanted his company right then.

Mr. Howell sat up, yawned, and stretched. "What's for breakfast?"

The Professor wanted to laugh. That was so typical of the millionaire, thinking of himself, expecting to be catered to. Not that the Professor wasn't hungry as well, but it wasn't his first concern. And apparently Mr. Howell was having no problem with seasickness. Maybe all that yachting helped.

"I'll see if there's something besides Spam." Mary Ann grimaced and went to the cupboard. Even off the island, despite seasickness, she automatically fell into her role of cook for the castaways.

And what was the Professor's role now? The voice of reason as always. Perhaps he could help the Skipper, combine his scientific knowledge and skills of observation with the Skipper's seafaring knowledge and skills.

And the millionaire's role was apparently to be spoiled and complaining. "Good Lord, I hope so!"

Mrs. Howell yawned and said, "Are we there yet?"

The Skipper snorted again. "Not quite."

She yawned again. "Wake me when we get there."

The Skipper shook his head and went upstairs. The Professor hesitated and then followed, shutting the door behind him. When he got out on deck, he saw the Skipper was clinging to the railing, staring down the storm.

"What are you doing?" the Professor yelled.

The Skipper looked over his shoulder. "What are you doing? Get back downstairs!"

"I want to help!"

The Skipper let go and gestured for the Professor to follow him. The Skipper went over to the helm and put his hands on the wheel. It resisted his strength.

"You can't help! No one can right now! But thank you!"

"You're welcome. And I'm sorry!" The Professor felt so helpless, but he knew the Skipper felt the same. There was nothing they could do against the power of Nature, at least not right now. Standing here in the storm wasn't worth it. He turned away and struggled against the wind and rain on his way back to the stairs.

"Wait for me!"

The Professor smiled a little as the Skipper joined him. There was nothing they could do right now, but the storm wouldn't last forever.


	21. Loyalty

It had been quite a month for Gilligan. No, it hadn't even been four weeks since Ginger saved his life and offered to make him a great lover. And here he was in the middle of a storm, and sort of on his honeymoon. He couldn't help wondering what the next few weeks would bring. Maybe he'd be home again, wherever home was these days. Kansas, Hawaii, or back on their island?

He slept surprisingly well once he fell asleep, the tiny ship rocking more roughly than a cradle, but he was used to sleeping in a hammock, so he didn't mind even the floor. It looked like he was the last to wake up the next morning, well, except for Mrs. Howell, who was dozing on the couch. He woke to the smell of Mary Ann's cooking. His nose would know it anywhere.

"Mmm, fried Spam!" he cried happily.

Mr. Howell made a noise of disgust but he had spent most of his life accustomed to Eydie Gormé dining. Gilligan wasn't that fussy.

"I though it might taste better fried."

"I like it any way you serve it, but fried sounds good."

"Oh, Gilligan," she said fondly. It hit him for the first time that that tone, which he'd heard so often over the past three years, was coming from his bride, his wife. If he'd had any doubts that she had married him just because Mrs. Howell thought she should, they were gone now.

Mr. Howell shook his head and gently touched his wife's shoulder. "Lovey, wake up."

Mrs. Howell sat up, yawned, and stretched. "Are we there yet?"

"No, it's breakfast time."

Mrs. Howell sniffed. "Oh, er, I'm afraid I'm on a diet."

It seemed like a funny time to go on a diet, but Gilligan couldn't help thinking that it would make the food last longer if it was for six and a half people instead of seven.

Mr. Howell said, "Yes, I'm afraid my appetite isn't too hearty right now. Maybe after I get used to the sea again."

As it turned out, no one ate much at breakfast, except Gilligan, who had to try not to eat more than his share. Even the Skipper ate less than usual. Maybe everyone was already tired of Spam, or maybe the storm was upsetting their stomachs.

By lunchtime though, the storm seemed less severe. The Skipper went up on deck to take a look. Gilligan felt like he should go with him, as first mate. But he also felt obligated to stay by Mary Ann's side, to comfort her as her husband, even though he didn't know what to say.

He looked at her but she gestured that he should follow the Skipper, so he did. And it wasn't like he was leaving her alone and unprotected, or that he was going that far away.

He joined the Skipper at the railing, gazing out at the seemingly endless ocean. He waited for the Skipper to speak but his friend said nothing.

Gilligan cleared his throat and asked, "Where do you think we are?"

The Skipper shook his head. "I don't know. I can't see anything out there, just water."

Gilligan nodded. Water surrounding the ship, water falling from the sky.

"All I know is, I don't think we can get back to our island, except by accident. So when I can steer, I'm going to aim for Hawaii. We may not get there but I'm gonna try."

Gilligan admired his captain's courage, all the braver for the doubts. "Skipper, I want to help." He didn't know how but he had to.

"Of course, Little Buddy. You'll always be my first mate."

Gilligan was touched. He knew then he could never leave the Skipper, not for Horner's Corners or anywhere. Mary Ann would have to understand. He had a different sort of commitment to the Skipper, like family. She probably would understand. She was a sweet girl and she was very fond of the Skipper. Plus, she seemed to want Gilligan to do what he wanted, like with letting Ginger train him. If Gilligan wanted to live in Hawaii and work for the Skipper again, she would stay by his side and support that.

"I will," he promised.

"Good. For now, let's head downstairs and get the maps and the compass and other things I packed away."

"Did you— did you think this would happen, Skipper?" If so, why didn't he warn them?

The Skipper sighed. "After so many years as a sailor, I know how unpredictable the sea can be. I didn't expect this to happen, no. But I knew it could, even if it was just a tenth of a percent. Mostly though, I hoped that someday we could take a little cruise, explore for a few days to see what's near our island."

"Me and you?"

"Well, yeah. After you came back from your honeymoon."

Gilligan blushed. He wasn't getting a honeymoon now, not a real one, not even in a cave. But maybe if they landed somewhere, not necessarily Hawaii, but somewhere big enough for him and Mary Ann to have some privacy, they could. They hadn't been alone since that one night and now he didn't know when they would be again. But for now, survival was most important.

They headed downstairs and he helped the Skipper find what they needed to sail this ship. The Skipper did his best not to either get the passengers' hopes up, or to dash them. He said nothing about Hawaii and Gilligan did his best not to blurt it out. Even to Mary Ann, he pretended that they just hoped to find land. He felt disloyal to her, but he worried that if he told her, she'd tell Ginger, who'd tell the Howells and the Professor. And he still had a duty to his captain.

Maybe someday he'd tell her, years from now when they were old and gray, or maybe in a week when they arrived in Honolulu Harbor. But not now, not yet. And it wasn't as if they had any privacy to talk anyway.


	22. Bearings

The Skipper looked out at the deck and had to smile. All five passengers and Gilligan were fishing. The Howells had pitched in as eagerly as the Professor, although they did express disappointment that they didn't have the proper "angling ensembles." That was probably one of their biggest regrets about leaving the island so unexpectedly, not being able to overpack like last time.

The storm was over and they were all alive. That was the important thing. Possessions, well, some of them, could be replaced if they made it back to civilization. There wasn't much that the Skipper regretted leaving behind. He'd always traveled light, in the Navy and out.

Still, he couldn't help wondering, if they got back to Hawaii, directly or indirectly, would any of his belongings or Gilligan's still be there? They'd rented a little house a stone's throw from the pier. It must've been cleared out when the rent came due, or the month after. And then maybe the landlord sent their stuff to a thrift store. Could any of it be tracked down, or was it long gone? Not that it mattered much after three years, but he was curious. And it wasn't like they'd been completely empty-handed when they arrived on their island, if less weighed down with material possessions than the Howells. But, yeah, whatever they'd taken on the way to the island was mostly gone now.

He'd packed two fishing poles, one for him and one for Gilligan. The Professor was now using the Skipper's. But there was also a net that the other four were using, raising and lowering it together. The fish would make a change from the canned food, which they were definitely all sick of after three days. Well, all but Gilligan of course.

There was no sign of land but the Skipper was steering in the direction that he thought Hawaii was from their island, in the hope that the storm had put them in that direction anyway. If nothing else, they were more likely to reach land heading east towards the United States than west, further into the Pacific. He just didn't know how long it would take.

At least they weren't all cooped up below deck anymore. The air was fresh and clear, and if they hadn't been in the middle of nowhere with hardly any possessions, it would've felt like a pleasant cruise.

The Skipper couldn't help thinking of all the times they'd hoped to be rescued. Sometimes it was a ship or an airplane or even a spaceship that was supposed to be going by. And sometimes an object would wash ashore, from a movie camera to a robot, and they'd think that that was their ticket home.

But mostly they put their faith in unreliable strangers. All those broken promises, people who swore they'd take the castaways with them but left them behind. He didn't blame the jungle boy, who was just a kid and didn't understand English. And Wrongway Feldman, he couldn't really help it either, since he had no sense of direction.

But all those people who feared the castaways would give away their secrets, or be competition. They couldn't wait to abandon the island. He tried not to be bitter about it, but that was hard.

And there were the few people that just were too absent-minded to rescue anyone. Like the butterfly guy. And the lovely Erika Tiffany Smith. He'd really fallen for the Countess of Capri, the Baroness of Blenford, and Duchess of Devonshire and Smith. But she only had eyes for the Professor, until he bored her with all that science talk. Ginger had also always preferred the Professor to the Skipper, but she'd been nicer about it, and she did seem to really care about the Professor, science talk and all.

Anyway, Mrs. Smith (a widow) wasn't a bad person. The problem was she kept her logbook in Hungarian and didn't mention longitude or latitude. And she didn't say who the "charming people" she had just vacationed with were, but maybe the island didn't stand out in her mind, with all her jet-setting.

And it was better than the people who'd stolen property and identities from the castaways! He wondered if they could get some sort of restitution for that once they made it back to America, if they made it back. Well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. First they had to cross the mighty Pacific.

It was going to be a lot tougher going from their island to Hawaii than it'd been in the other direction. The first storm did most of the work, and they were darn lucky that it hadn't taken them to a less hospitable island, or even dashed them into the sea.

For that matter, he was lucky that some of the visitors over the years hadn't been passengers on that cruise, not just the annoying ones, like Dubov the painter and the Mosquitoes, but out-and-out criminals, even a murderer! Compared to that, Gilligan's clumsiness and Mr. Howell's greed were nothing. And even Mr. Howell had a good heart, although he tried to hide it.

Anyway, this recent storm hadn't taken them back to Hawaii, or even another uncharted desert isle. It had shaken them up and dropped them in the middle of the ocean. And now it was up to the Skipper to somehow get them home. It was hard just for him to get his bearings, literally and figuratively. It was even harder without all the tools he needed, although he'd put what he could on board, even with the rush job of building this ship.

He most missed the radio. They wouldn't necessarily get a signal out here, although they had on the island. But just trying to get reception would be a good distraction for the passengers.

"Skipper, look what we caught!"

"Skipper, come see!"

"Oh my, Captain, you won't believe your eyes!"

The women sounded so proud and excited. Mr. Howell was calmer as he said, "Well, I was not expecting that."

Gilligan and the Professor made it over to the net before the Skipper.

"Wow, it's our radio!" Gilligan exclaimed.

But the Professor picked up the object, which definitely looked like a radio to the Skipper, examined it, and said, "I don't think it is."


	23. Static

Thurston would've preferred to catch fish rather than a radio, although he did miss the financial news. They needed to eat something palatable, or they wouldn't survive long enough to make it back to America. Still, he supposed their chances of returning were stronger than they'd been on the island. They wouldn't necessarily make it back on this tiny ship, especially considering Thurston had always had his doubts about the captain's seamanship, but their chances of being rescued were probably increased, since they were likely more visible at sea. He just missed the relative comfort of waiting for salvation on their island. There weren't even deck chairs on board!

Still, there was a lot of fish in the sea and not many radios, so he hoped he and the women could net something edible next time, and then that evening they could all listen to pleasant music over dinner, perhaps something classical. None of that awful rock & roll! If the Mosquitoes and their ilk came on, Thurston would throw the radio back into the Pacific.

He was mildly surprised when, after Gilligan said it was their radio, the Professor voiced doubts. It certainly looked like a radio to Thurston, although it was possible that the scientist recognized it as some sort of device. Perhaps it was related to espionage or war! Thurston hoped it wasn't an explosive, although he assumed that it would have to be highly sophisticated to survive immersion in salt water.

"It certainly looks like a radio," Lovey said.

"It is. But it's not ours," the Professor said, turning it over in his hands. "Look, it's fancier than ours, and a more recent model I believe. Furthermore, it has the initials ETS engraved on the back."

He passed it around to everyone and they speculated about what ETS stood for. Thurston wondered if it might be a company or even corporation, although he couldn't remember those initials on the stock exchange. He was rusty after three years away, and he would probably need to do a lot of catching up if and when he returned to Wall Street.

The radio came to the Skipper last, and the stout sailor murmured as if in a daydream, "Erika Tiffany Smith."

The Professor actually blushed and Ginger shot him a look. Thurston wondered if the Professor still had feelings for the duchess, or if he was simply embarrassed that he'd considering marrying her. And was Ginger jealous or sympathetic? If there were anywhere to discuss this privately, Thurston would be curious to hear Lovey's thoughts on that matter, because she understood romance better than he did. On the other hand, Lovey had her own jealousy about Mrs. Smith, not romantic, but social. The then countess's name had appeared in the social register before the Howells while the countess was engaged to the head of the committee. Ever since then, the two ladies had been bitter but of course polite rivals.

The Skipper had been infatuated with the visiting socialite, but she had eyes only for the Professor. Was the captain still carrying a torch after all this time? Well, the Skipper was unlikely to run into her again, unlike the Howells, who would reluctantly have to socialize with her if and when they returned to civilization. Well, if Lovey and Erika ever called a truce, then Lovey might want to matchmake Erika, but she was unlikely to choose Jonas Grumby as the baroness's fourth— or was it fifth?— husband. And even if Lovey wanted to promote an overweight, earthy sailor as a suitor, Erika would likely be even less interested than she was when she had only three bachelors to choose from.

"If it's Mrs. Smith's radio, I wonder if she lost it when she visited or if it was more recent." Mary Ann was perhaps the person who had been the least emotionally invested in the duchess, one way or another. The socialite had mostly ignored the farm girl, hardly noticing someone so humble. Even though Thurston wasn't close to Mary Ann, he had been aware of the dismissal and felt sorry for her, but Miss Summers took it in stride. Her tone now was matter-of-fact.

The Professor took the radio back and examined it again, not meeting anyone's eyes. "It doesn't seem as corroded as it would be if it had been immersed nineteen months."

Thurston silently noted that the Professor was rather precise about how much time had passed since Mrs. Smith's departure from the island, while Thurston would've guessed about a year and a half. But then, the Professor was a man of science.

"Does it play?" Gilligan was unaware of the subtext to any of this and was simply asking one of his direct questions. It was a sensible question as it happened, but that wasn't why Ginger, the Professor, the Skipper, Lovey, and Thurston himself were relieved at the shift away from the countess to what might be one of her many possessions.

The Professor pressed the on/off button, but there was silence.

"Maybe the batteries are dead," Ginger suggested.

"Maybe," the Professor said, probably wishing that they could recharge them like on the island. "But let's not give up yet." He extended the antenna and turned the radio dial.

At first there was nothing but static, yet even that gave them hope. Even if there was no reception where they were, they might pick up something as they moved further east. They would just have to be careful not to listen too many hours a day and run the batteries down.

Suddenly a jangling guitar cut through the static and a young man mumbled, "He's a loser, pay no mind to what he says. He's a loser, he's got rocks in both his heads."

"The Mosquitoes!" Mary Ann squealed, as if she were still a teenager rather than a new bride. And Gilligan started bopping his head.

Thurston reached for the radio, but the Professor quickly turned the dial again.

A deep male voice intoned, "I'm very sorry, Young Dr. Young, but your father is." A flourish of organ music. "Deceased!"

Mary Ann burst into tears.

"Well, I guess it works," the Skipper said dryly.


	24. Luxuries

Lovey wished she could fall asleep to nice music on the radio. Not that awful rock & roll, like the Mosquitoes, with their long hair and incomprehensible lyrics. Something classical would be lovely.

But everyone agreed when the Professor suggested that they conserve the batteries and only listen to the news a couple times a day. Anything else was a luxury rather than a necessity.

Lovey saw luxuries and necessities differently than she did three years ago. They'd lived so simply on their island. Before, she'd never gone camping, never "roughed it." She knew that the other castaways sometimes saw the Howells as spoiled, disconnected from the demands of everyday life. And she supposed they were compared to the others, although she could argue that an actress and a professor weren't entirely living in the real world either.

But what their friends didn't see was how much she and Thurston had changed. Not at first. For the first few weeks, maybe months, they refused to change significantly. They were going to be rescued soon and put this strange experience behind them.

Then gradually, imperceptibly, they grew attached to their random companions. They tried new things, reluctantly at first, but sometimes enthusiastically. She was less stuck in her ways, more open to new people and things than Thurston, but he had changed, too.

There had been not a single luxury on the island, not really. Yes, she and Thurston had had more than the others, but it was so little compared to what they'd left behind. So their possessions on the island were more like necessities.

And now they didn't even have those last belongings. Yet she felt like she was adjusting much faster this time. Maybe it was that she believed she was going home, back to one of the many Howell estates. Or maybe, while things are important, they are just things.

Good as it felt to be surrounded by the trappings of wealth, she'd never felt as safe as she did with Thurston beside her, sharing a lumpy couch rather than lying on another bed, or as it had been during the difficult years of their marriage, sleeping in another room, wing, or even a different building entirely. And knowing that their friends, their real friends, were in the room, was equally comforting. She wouldn't want this as a permanent sleeping arrangement, but for now, in the middle of the ocean, a couple days after a storm, with perhaps more storms on the way, she needed this, needed all of them.

Not that that made sleep easy. She had a lot on her mind, tonight more than the previous nights. It had to do with what she, Thurston, and the girls had caught in the net. Not the fish, although that had made a pleasant change for lunch and dinner. But their first catch, and not just because it was a precious working radio.

There was no proof that the radio belonged to Erika Tiffany Smith, but when the Skipper said that name, it reminded Lovey of that whole world. In some ways she missed it. The charity galas, the hunt breakfasts, the symphonies, the weddings. She'd tried to recreate such events on the island, but her efforts were doomed from the beginning. Well, yes, she'd finally gotten the wedding she'd most hoped for, but obviously not the way she'd dreamed of, either the reason or the result.

What she didn't miss was socializing with socialites like Mrs. Smith. All that backstabbing and cattiness. And yet, she couldn't swear that she wouldn't be drawn into it if she returned to that world. After all, such behavior had occurred on the island, and not just between her and Erika.

She'd never fully understood the girls' friendship. Ginger and Mary Ann were so different. Was it just a friendship of convenience? What if one of the castaways had been a woman Lovey's age? Maybe a middle-class housewife with grown children, or an actress now too old for anything but character roles. But that wouldn't have been the same, would it? They wouldn't have shared a hut, unless they'd been traveling without their husbands.

In a way, they all lived together, the seven of them. But it did make a difference who shared a hut with whom. The sailors had been best friends for years, despite the differences in their ages and personalities, and sharing a hut had been so natural that it was still hard to imagine Gilligan playing house with Mary Ann. And sharing a hut, except when they quarreled, had made so much difference for her and Thurston.

But the girls had been strangers in the beginning, from very different worlds. They would never have become friends if they hadn't landed on the island, not best friends if they hadn't had to be roommates. At that, they'd still had their moments of cattiness and perhaps backstabbing.

And they'd been rivals, not socially like Lovey and Erika, but romantically. Briefly for Duke Williams, who wasn't even a real duke, and more significantly for Gilligan. For three years, Gilligan had been a scared little boy, running away from both girls, so even if they were in competition, it wasn't like either girl won.

And then came the dance lessons and that was all it took for Gilligan to become infatuated with Ginger. Lovey thought she'd have to give up her dream of Gilligan marrying Mary Ann, but then everything shifted again.

Lovey sighed and again wished she could fall asleep to the radio. She knew some people thought she was scatterbrained, but it was more that her brain was so full sometimes that she couldn't focus.

She closed her eyes and hoped that the boat would rock her to sleep as it had the last few nights.

She must've drifted off for awhile, although it seemed like only a moment later that she heard the twanging of an electric guitar.

"Gilligan, turn off that infernal racket!" Thurston snapped sleepily.

"It's not me, Mr. Howell. It's them."

Lovey opened her eyes and saw Gilligan pointing out the window into what should've been utter darkness but looked like dancing twinkles of light.


	25. Unfathomable

The Professor felt like he was in a waking dream. He'd had trouble falling asleep, although he tried various relaxation techniques. It was all the fault of the radio, although it wasn't playing that night.

He had half forgotten Erika Tiffany Smith, which was an odd thing to say about his sort of ex-girlfriend. Like a storm, she'd swept in and out of their lives, staying just long enough to shake up their little world.

He remembered Ginger teaching him how to woo Erika, but he hadn't known if it meant anything. And then when she gave Gilligan lessons like that but cubed, he really didn't know what to think. Even a couple weeks after his own memorable night with her, he couldn't make sense of it.

Somehow he'd fallen asleep, even though he was lying on the floor, aware that she was separated from him by the cuddling, somehow still innocent, young newlyweds. And then he woke to the sound of rock music.

Like Mr. Howell, he assumed that Gilligan had turned on the radio, even though they were trying to sleep, even though they had to conserve the batteries. But the music was coming from outside their ship, from another ship, a yacht!

The seven of them were now gathered on the deck of the _Minnow II,_ staring out into the darkness at the brightly lit deck of the yacht. They weren't close enough for their unlit little ship to have been spotted yet, and it was hard to see details without the binoculars that the Skipper now held.

The Skipper swore softly and then mumbled, "Sorry, Ladies."

"It's all right, Skipper," said Ginger, who had probably heard more profanity in Hollywood than Mrs. Howell and Mary Ann had heard in a lifetime. She took the binoculars and put them to her green un-made-up eyes. Then she burst into laughter and passed the binoculars on to the Professor.

The first thing he noticed was the name of the yacht: _Duke and Duchess_. Then he panned up to the deck and truly felt like he was dreaming. Erika Tiffany Smith was doing the— Here the Professor had to think for a moment on what Ginger had taught Gilligan when she really did give him a dance lesson, for the Gnats. The Frug, or was it the Watusi? Anyway, Erika was doing a modern dance with Duke Williams. And the music? It was being performed live by the Mosquitoes.

The Professor could understand why the Skipper swore. It was bizarre to run into so many of the island's visitors in the middle of the ocean. Roy couldn't help wondering if Harold Hecuba, Lord Beasley, and Boris Balinkoff were below deck.

He wordlessly handed the binoculars to Gilligan, who took them eagerly. "Mary Ann, it is the Mosquitoes!" He quickly passed the binoculars on to her.

"Oh my gosh! " she exclaimed. The Professor thought she was reacting to the presence of her favorite musical combo, but when she lowered the binoculars, she gently said, "Mrs. Howell, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, My Dear. I'd be happy to be rescued even by cannibals at this point."

Mr. Howell had taken the binoculars from Mary Ann and said, "Lovey, I'm afraid it's worse than cannibals."

Mrs. Howell took it better than they expected. They all knew that Mrs. Smith was far from her favorite person, but a rescue is a rescue. The problem was, how were they going to get rescued when the people on the yacht seemed oblivious?

Yelling and making noise wouldn't work, not from this distance and not while the Mosquitoes were playing. And they couldn't signal to the yacht because the only lights they had were lanterns that wouldn't be seen at this distance in the dark.

"What if we pull up alongside the yacht and board her like pirates?" Gilligan suggested with his wild imagination.

The Skipper shook his head. "I'll stay out here the rest of the night and make sure the _Minnow_ doesn't drift too far away from the yacht. And then in the morning, I'll signal to them."

It sounded reasonable enough, and morning was now just a few hours away.

"Want some company, Skip?"

"Thanks, Prof."

They ended up fishing to pass the time, using the poles rather than the net. At first they sat in silence. Well, no, not silence, since the rock band was still playing. But neither man said anything until the Skipper said, "She was quite a lady."

It took the Professor a moment or two to understand who the Skipper meant. Not Mrs. Howell, who still was a lady. And not the Skipper's late mother, although apparently she was a remarkable woman, raising five sons as a widow during the Depression. He was talking about a lady he'd had romantic feelings for.

And considering there was such a lady in hailing distance, if it had been quieter, it was easy to guess who he meant. "Yes, she was," the Professor said quietly.

"Do you think they're married?"

It was an embarrassing question but one that had crossed Roy's mind. "Well, you did complete the ceremony, so it probably doesn't matter that they, uh, haven't consummated yet."

The Skipper stared in confusion and then let out a sharp bark of laughter. "I mean Duke and the duchess."

"Oh, of course. I don't really know much about that sort of thing."

The Skipper chuckled. "Maybe I should ask Mrs. Howell. Or Ginger."

The Professor couldn't imagine asking either woman himself, for various reasons. It was hard enough to ask the Skipper, "And if they're not married? If they were just dancing together?"

"Well, it was a modern dance. It wasn't like it was a slow dance. He could just be one of her flings, like Johnny."

The Professor had to think a moment who "Johnny" was. Then he recalled the handsome young sailor who had brought Erika ashore in a small boat from her yacht and later returned for her. A storm hit before she could take the castaways away with her. She was rescued but her logbook was written in Hungarian. Johnny's fate was unclear.

"Anyway, we should probably shut up and stop scaring away the fish."

The Professor could've pointed out that the Mosquitoes' music was probably scaring away far more, but he just nodded and again cast his line into the figuratively but hopefully not literally unfathomable sea.


	26. Soap

Mary Ann didn't sleep well that night, but she hadn't really slept well since she got married, and not for the usual reason. She and Gilligan hadn't done much more than cuddle, and not just because they were always surrounded by their friends.

She didn't know for sure she was pregnant, not this early, but the possibility that she was, from just one night with Gilligan, made her think about lovemaking in a different way. Not that she didn't want children with Gilligan, she'd always hoped for that. But so soon? They hadn't had any real chance to be a couple yet. Heck, they hadn't even been on a real date yet!

And if she were going to have a baby, were they ready to be parents yet? It at least was a relief that it looked like they were going to be rescued, much sooner than if they had tried to get back to Hawaii on this tiny ship. At least she wouldn't be taking care of a baby while wandering the ocean, or stuck on an island that didn't have the resources that their island had.

It was possible that Mrs. Smith and the others would refuse to rescue them. After all, she might still be mad at the Professor for whatever happened in their romance. Mary Ann of course didn't know any details and it wasn't something she and Ginger had talked about much, although she had the feeling that Ginger had done something sneaky to end the engagement.

As for Duke Williams, well, he might resent how both Ginger and Mary Ann had rejected him, after their initial interest. Mary Ann had been very attracted to the muscular surfer, more than she was to most of their visitors, but she'd happily gone along with the scheme to make Duke think that she and Ginger had boyfriends. If Mary Ann had been paired with the Professor, she would've felt shy and awkward. She was very fond of him but she didn't always know what to say to him, or understand what he was saying, and she certainly wouldn't have been able to kiss him.

Ginger wouldn't have had any problem kissing Gilligan of course but she'd seemed very pleased when Mrs. Howell had paired her off with the Professor. And Mary Ann had blushed at being paired with Gilligan but looked forward to it. They'd had a lovely evening, and she sort of wished she could keep "making Duke jealous." Anyway, it had worked, and he left the island but he hit his head on a rock and forgot all about them. On the plus side, that might mean he bore no resentment towards the girls, unless of course he'd gotten his memory back in the past two and a half years.

As for the Mosquitoes, well, they'd feared the competition of the Honeybees, the girl group that Mary Ann, Ginger, and Mrs. Howell threw together after the men's group, the Gnats, hurt the Mosquitoes' ears. But that was a year and a half ago, and pop music changed so quickly that the Mosquitoes' fame was fading anyway. She was surprised to hear them live, when they weren't played on the radio as much as they used to be. They were an odd choice to entertain Mrs. Smith, but she could picture Duke liking them, although he'd been more of a Beach Bunch fan when she knew him.

She was surprised at first that Duke and Mrs. Smith seemed to be a couple, or at least were dancing together. She could see Mrs. Smith going for Duke, since Johnny had also been young and good-looking, but was Mrs. Smith Duke's type? It'd be like if he'd flirted with Mrs. Howell. Well, maybe not. Both ladies were socialites, but Mrs. Howell wasn't a flirt, and not just because she was happily married. And if the Professor and the Skipper could both find Mrs. Smith attractive, then Mary Ann supposed Duke could, too. Mrs. Smith wasn't bad-looking. Mary Ann just didn't like her personality.

Still, if Mrs. Smith would rescue them, Mary Ann wouldn't mind how the baroness had ignored her and treated her like a servant. Maybe Mrs. Smith having a boyfriend, or whatever Duke was, would help, because she wasn't bitter about the Professor, and Duke wasn't bitter about Mary Ann and Ginger. As for the Mosquitoes, well, it wasn't their yacht, was it? So it wasn't up to them.

She was the first to wake up in the morning and rushed for the bathroom. She was no longer nauseated, but she didn't know if that meant the morning sickness had died down or that she was getting her sea legs. Maybe it was enough that the storm was over. Still, it was good to be the first one to tidy up in the morning.

She was still wearing her wedding dress. She had no change of clothes. None of them did, not even the Howells. She was able to undress and wash out her underwear with hand soap, but she didn't know how much longer she could live like this. Perhaps she could borrow clothes from Mrs. Smith, although she hated to ask.

She sighed and wrung out her bra and panties, then put them back on. There was no time for them to dry out, but at least it was summer on the South Pacific. Still, she missed doing laundry on the island, hanging clothes in the sunshine.

She put the gown back on and left the head. Ginger was silently waiting, as she had been the day before. Ginger's nausea also seemed to have died down, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Poor Ginger! Maybe she wasn't pregnant but what if she was? Mary Ann felt guilty that Gilligan wouldn't be able to do the right thing for Ginger. And she felt guilty that Gilligan didn't know. But it wasn't Mary Ann's secret to tell.

Heck, Mary Ann hadn't even told Gilligan about her own possible pregnancy yet. It was too early and they had no privacy. And what if she was wrong? It was better to wait until they were home, wherever home would be, and she could see a doctor.

Poor Old Dr. Young. Mary Ann had grown up listening to that radio soap opera, as had her mother and aunt. She realized suddenly that maybe in less than a week she could be sitting at the farmhouse kitchen table discussing soap operas.

Ginger put her hand to her stomach and grimaced. Mary Ann gave her a quick hug and thought about how life was a soap opera, but not one she could completely share with her family.


	27. On Board

Gilligan couldn't believe this was really happening. After all this time, they were going to be rescued! Well, they were if they could get the attention of the other ship.

It was early in the morning but they were all gathered on the deck, again gazing at the yacht. They hadn't even had breakfast yet, although the Skipper and the Professor had caught fish last night. Even food had to wait. They'd waited long enough to go home.

"It's so quiet," Ginger whispered.

"Maybe everyone is asleep," Mary Ann said. "They were up awfully late. Or at least the Mosquitoes were playing awfully late."

Gilligan hadn't minded. It reminded him of the free Mosquitoes concerts on the island. He hoped they'd get to hear the Mosquitoes play all the way home. But it was good that they weren't playing at that moment.

He asked, "How are we going to get their attention, Skipper?" Gilligan had lots of ideas how, but he knew the Skipper would prefer his own plan.

"The radio of course."

It was a simple plan but a good one. The Professor turned on the radio and extended the antenna. He turned the dial until he got something other than static. It was the financial news, so Mr. Howell listened eagerly. Gilligan yawned and wondered if he could sneak downstairs and sleep on the unoccupied sofa.

Mr. Howell turned up the volume, probably as much for his own ears as the ears of the people on the yacht. The Skipper went back to the wheel so that he could bring the _Minnow II_ closer but not too close.

They could now see someone strolling onto the deck, wearing silk pajamas and tortoiseshell glasses.

"Harold Hecuba!" Ginger gasped.

"Oh, crap!" the producer cried and scurried downstairs.

"Lovey, cover your ears!" Mr. Howell exclaimed, although it seemed a little late for that.

The Skipper shook his head. "Everyone who ever visited the island is on that yacht, aren't they?"

"That is highly unlikely, based not only on the size of the vessel but on the fact that I doubt Mrs. Smith would've welcomed the varied and multitudinous natives on board."

"Thanks, Professor."

"The question is, will she take us on board?" Mrs. Howell said.

They were going to find out shortly, because Mrs. Smith came up on deck with a bullhorn. "Darlinks, vot are you doing here?"

"We were just in the neighborhood!" the Skipper bellowed back.

"Then come aboard for cocktails!"

"At six a.m.?" Mary Ann murmured.

But when Mrs. Smith sent the crew over with three rowboats, Mary Ann was happy to go to the other ship with Gilligan and the Skipper. The Howells went in the first rowboat, while Ginger and the Professor took the last.

When Gilligan came on board, Mrs. Smith was chatting with Mrs. Howell about "the season." It was summer, but Gilligan didn't think that was what they meant.

Then Mrs. Smith looked at him and Mary Ann. "Vos there a vedding?"

"Yes, a few days ago," Mrs. Howell said. "Just a simple affair."

Gilligan looked at his feet, even though he knew she didn't mean the naughty kind of affair.

Mrs. Smith laughed. "Vot other kind could you have on that primitive little island?"

Gilligan wanted to speak up and defend their island, but it was true they couldn't have had a high society wedding. Heck, they hardly had any society. Not that he would've wanted that kind of wedding anyway. Everyone who was at his wedding was important to him, even if they weren't all socially important.

"And what about you, Dear Erika? Have wedding bells rung out for you since we last met?"

Mrs. Smith looked annoyed for a moment and then chuckled and said, "I'm having too much fun to settle down again."

And then the Professor and Ginger boarded the yacht. Gilligan expected the countess to greet the Professor, but instead she exclaimed, "Vhy, Eva, I almost didn't recognize you!"

Ginger grimaced at being mistaken for Eva Grubb on a bad day. But instead of saying who she really was, she said in her most formal tone, "Might we trouble you, Your Grace, to allow us to freshen up?"

The duchess laughed again. "Yes, I didn't vant to say anything but you're all a little stinky."

The female castaways looked offended, while the male castaways looked embarrassed. Except for Gilligan, who thought they all smelled pretty good considering they hadn't been able to wash up except in the sink for days.

"Eunice Darlink, vhy don't you go first?" Mrs. Smith offered.

Gilligan was about to ask who Eunice was, when Mrs. Howell replied, "You're too kind, Tiff."

After Mrs. Howell went below deck, Gilligan said, "Mrs. Smith?"

"Yes, Dear Boy?" It wasn't like when the Howells called him that, out of affection. Mrs. Smith probably just didn't remember his name.

"Could we have some food?"

The Skipper looked like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to cap-slap Gilligan or he was grateful to Gilligan for asking.

This time Mrs. Smith was so amused that she threw her head back in laughter. "You're very pushy gatecrashers, aren't you? Next you'll be asking me to tow your little boat back to America."

Gilligan could've pointed out that they weren't gatecrashers, since she had invited them over for cocktails. But he realized that they were asking for a lot more than alcohol.

Mary Ann put her hands on her hips and said, "Listen here, Duchess. We provided food and shelter and everything else you and Duke Williams and Mr. Hecuba and the Mosquitoes and all our visitors asked for. You people owe us and you owe us big time."

Gilligan wasn't the only one staring at his wife in shock and admiration. But no one said anything until Duke Williams scratched his stomach and said, "The gidget's got a point."


	28. Washed Up

The hot water felt good. It had been a very long time since Ginger had showered like this. They weren't quite back to civilization, but it was the closest they'd been in three years.

She was the last to take a shower, and she half expected the hot water to run out before she got her turn. Not that it had mattered much when it did on the island, warm as the weather usually was. It was strange to think that the Hollywood climate would be comparatively cool.

That is, if she was going back to Hollywood. She carefully caressed her stomach. Was she pregnant? It was still far too early to tell, but not too early to make plans.

The obvious solution was to get the Professor to marry her. After all, the baby, if there was a baby, might be his. And she loved him, and he perhaps loved her.

But what if Gilligan was the father? That wouldn't be fair to the Professor. Not that she would be tricking him or anything. Obviously he knew about her "past" with Gilligan. But it wouldn't be right for him to raise another man's child as his own. Well, she supposed if she were a widow with a child and the Professor became a stepfather, that would be fine. But this wasn't the same situation.

It was actually worse not knowing who the father was. They'd have to live with that uncertainty. What would she tell the child? If there was a child.

The thing was, part of her wanted a baby. She wasn't as domestic and old-fashioned as Mary Ann, but she liked the idea of someone to take care of. The side of her that had considered becoming a nurse gave her maternal urges. If she wasn't pregnant now, perhaps she could have a baby later, hopefully with the Professor, after they married.

Yes, being a mother would change her career, but a three-year absence was going to do that anyway. Not to mention, there was the Eva Grubb situation. Ginger still didn't have all the details but apparently when Eva made it back to civilization, she didn't try to "resume" Ginger's career but instead made a good living as a Ginger Grant impersonator, particularly in Vegas. People might view Ginger differently now, see her as an actress from Hollywood's recent past, like poor Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield. She hadn't died tragically, but there had been a point when the public thought she had, and she would in a sense be coming back from the dead.

Furthermore, judging from what she knew from radio and their visitors, Hollywood had changed since '64. The production code was being revised and there was more interest in "youth films," and not like _The Hula Girl and the Fullback._ Where would an actress who was pushing 30 fit in, whether or not she was pregnant?

She sighed, rinsed off, and turned off the hot water. None of this could be settled yet, and she'd have to be patient. At least they were going back to America and she'd have more options. It wasn't like she'd have to make a movie right away. She could take a few months to review whatever scripts her agent sent her, maybe on a mountain retreat. Heck, she could stay away a year and come back with a "foundling" she "adopted."

Or should she tell the Professor about the possibility of pregnancy? After all, whether or not he was the father, he cared about her, perhaps loved her. He'd want to know what she was going through. There was no point in telling Gilligan. Not only was he married to Mary Ann, but he was still so innocent in some ways. If she never said anything, he'd probably never figure it out, unless the baby ended up looking just like him.

She realized she was again going around in circles on this. She dried herself off with one of the fluffy pink towels and then put on the clothes she was borrowing from Mrs. Smith. She hated having to take favors from that woman, but there really wasn't any choice. They couldn't have survived on the _Minnow II_ indefinitely. And it was unlikely anyone else was going to come along and rescue them any time soon. At least this would be for only a few more days.

She supposed it wasn't easy on Mrs. Smith either. Here she was providing food, clothing, and shelter for a pack of gatecrashers, mostly because a little hick nobody had guilted her into it. Ginger had never been more impressed and amused by her best friend. Whether or not Mary Ann was pregnant, she could be a mama bear when she had to be, with that Kansan toughness that withstood cyclones and drought.

And these weren't just any gatecrashers but they included a man Mrs. Smith had once wanted and two women that her boyfriend, or whatever Duke was to her, had once wanted. This made things even more awkward.

Ginger looked in the mirror. Her complexion seemed washed out. She wondered if that was a sign of pregnancy or if it was just that she hadn't worn makeup since the wedding. She didn't feel comfortable asking Mrs. Smith about borrowing even lipstick. It was hard enough taking even necessities, like clean underwear.

She finally left the bathroom. It was time to join the others at breakfast. Not that she had much appetite these days. Again, she didn't know if that was a symptom of pregnancy. Maybe she and Mary Ann could compare notes in their room later.

Then it sunk in. They probably wouldn't be sharing a room. Ginger would likely have to share a room with the other single lady, well, widow/divorcée. As for Mary Ann, well, she'd probably get to finally share a bed with Gilligan.


	29. Lucky

PART THREE

Mary Ann didn't hear the first sighting of land because Gilligan was moaning her name. They tried to be quiet in their little room on the yacht. They didn't want the others to tease them or even exchange knowing glances. They felt self-conscious as newlyweds. It would've been so much easier if they'd been able to go to their honeymoon cave as planned, to be alone and get used to each other without an audience. Still, even if they hadn't fooled around, the others probably would assume that they did. And they were sharing a bed every night after all.

They were shy the first night, not even snuggling like they had on the _Minnow II,_ even though they were married and had the right to share a bed. Gilligan may've felt pressured, not by her but by circumstances.

As for Mary Ann, she couldn't help thinking about her possible pregnancy. Should she say something to Gilligan or wait until she was sure? She probably would wait, but it felt funny keeping this secret from him now that they had a little privacy.

She definitely wasn't going to say a word about Ginger's possible pregnancy. That was Ginger's secret, to tell who, how, and when she chose. And maybe there was a part of Mary Ann that was afraid that Gilligan still might choose Ginger, even now.

The second night on board, after watching Duke flirt with Ginger, and the duchess flirt with the Professor, and then act like they were the honeymooners, Mary Ann thought of how lucky Mr. and Mrs. Howell were. They mostly didn't bother with such silly games, although there was that time when they used Ginger and the Professor to make each other jealous, but everyone was in on it then. Mary Ann wanted to be as classy as Mrs. Howell usually was. Not in the sense of eating dinner with three forks or knowing the four C's of diamonds, but in the sense of acting with dignity and honor.

That ended up affecting how she saw her relationship with Gilligan. He didn't play games like that. He was too honest and too pure-hearted. Yes, he had made her jealous over Ginger, but never deliberately. She was lucky to have him.

When she and Gilligan were alone again, she kissed and hugged him in bed. He responded eagerly. After that, it was hard to keep their hands and lips off each other, even when they weren't alone, although the shyness kept them somewhat in check in public. Still, she had only to put her hand on his arm for his face to light up, and when he gave her quick hugs, like when the Mosquitoes were rehearsing or she'd cooked a good dinner (she was helping the Duchess's chef), she wanted to lean into him and never let go.

They were both surprised by these feelings, after knowing each other so long, but she supposed that being married helped, whatever her doubts about his lingering feelings for Ginger. They had permission and indeed encouragement to be affectionate with each other. And in private, well, as private as it got on the yacht, that affection turned to passion.

She would rather that they make a baby under these circumstances than three weeks ago in that cave during the first stormy night. It wasn't just that they were married now. It was that they were on better terms, although still not ideal. It would be even better if she conceived once they were happily settled in Kansas, or Hawaii.

She missed the sailors' first cries at the sight of Honolulu, and Gilligan was of course distracted, too. But he was resting on top of her when he exclaimed, "Mary Ann, we made it!"

She giggled.

She could feel the warmth of his blush against her face, when most of his heat had been centered much further down the past fifteen minutes. "No, uh, yeah. But I mean, Hawaii!"

Her groom wasn't too articulate even at the best of times, and it took her a moment to interpret what he'd just stammered. Then she whispered, "We're there?"

"I think so."

After it sunk in, they started kissing. She felt like making love all over again, this time in celebration, and Gilligan probably would've soon been up for it, in every sense. But she was supposed to be the sensible one, and it wasn't like they couldn't celebrate in a hotel room later.

"Willy Sweetie?" She didn't often use his real first name. He was still "Gilligan" to her. But she needed to shift his attention. "We need to get dressed and up on deck."

"Oh, right." He reluctantly eased himself off her and got to his feet. "Um, I'm gonna go shower. Unless you want to go first?"

"No, you go." She thought there might be a line for the shower, unless everyone had already gotten ready hours ago. She looked over at the clock. It was eight a.m., which felt decadently late, but it was possible that the partying jet-setters might've been sleeping in until noon like usual.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Thanks. I'll try to be quick." Then he pulled on the pajama bottoms he'd borrowed from Bongo.

He was so sweet. She really was lucky.

She wanted to linger in bed, surrounded by his scent and recent memories of him, but she shook herself after he left the room and started tidying up. At least she didn't have to pack. All their clothes were borrowed, and she got fewer than he did because the four male castaways got contributions from not just the Mosquitoes but from Duke and Mr. Hecuba, while Mrs. Smith had to loan to Mrs. Howell and the two girls.

At that, Mary Ann had the feeling that Mrs. Smith had given her the worst of her wardrobe, since she wasn't rich like Mrs. Howell or glamorous like Ginger. And she knew that the duchess didn't like a "little hick nobody" telling her off, no matter how justified. Mrs. Smith had laughed that phony laugh of hers, which the Skipper seemed to still be enchanted by, and been very "gracious" to them all, but Mary Ann and Ginger had overheard her talking to Duke later. Still, Mary Ann couldn't wear her wedding dress forever, so she sincerely thanked the countess for the plaids and polka dots.

She put on Bongo's pajama top and grabbed fresh panties from the drawer. She wasn't used to such fancy underwear, so silky and lacy, but she could very happily get used to them. Gilligan liked to see her in these panties and really liked taking them off her.

She decided that if she had to, she'd smuggle the underwear to Kansas rather than return it. She felt a little guilty, but she wasn't a perfect little angel like some people thought. And she was at least as plucky as she was lucky.


	30. Arrival

Gilligan squeezed Mary Ann's hand as the yacht docked. They were back! A little over three years after they set out on a three-hour tour, they'd returned, not in the same ship, not even in a _Minnow_ , but the seven of them still alive and well.

He used to fantasize about their return. He imagined enthusiastic crowds and the Mayor of Honolulu, maybe even President Johnson! But the fact was, although Erika Tiffany Smith was an internationally famous socialite, it wasn't especially eventful for her yacht to dock in Hawaii. Oh, a gossip columnist might drop by, especially with Harold Hecuba on board. But no one knew that the duchess had just rescued seven castaways.

Well, not she personally. She didn't know anything about sailing. Duke was actually the captain, since he'd spent a lot of time on the water.

"I know, it's a little cuckoo," Duke had confided in Gilligan. "Her last stud fell overboard, with the logbook, six hours from Maui. That's why she had to rewrite everything in Hungarian." Duke shrugged. "But I've been luckier than Ronnie so far."

"Johnny."

"Yeah. What's this dial thingy do?"

Gilligan had helped Duke as much as he could but he knew the Skipper was frustrated by their slow progress, if faster than on the _Minnow II._ Gilligan wasn't in a big hurry, not with spending every night with Mary Ann. Yeah, he had the rest of his life to be with her, but returning to civilization meant figuring out his future, where they'd live, what job he'd have. It would be nice to drift forever.

Still, he was very happy and excited when they did actually arrive in Hawaii, even without crowds and politicians. The Skipper had asked Mrs. Smith if she was going to radio ahead about bringing the castaways back and she said, "Votever for?"

It turned out that the duchess didn't understand that they'd been marooned. She was under the impression that they'd been on their island by choice. And it was an impression that no one could correct. The Mosquitoes and Mr. Hecuba didn't even seem to try. Of course, Mr. Hecuba had stolen the idea for _Hamlet!: The Musical._ And the rock band didn't want more competition. They had deliberately not rescued the castaways. Gilligan didn't hold a grudge against any of them, but he had the feeling none of the five men were eager to tell the baroness that they had failed to rescue people in distress.

As for Duke, he claimed to not remember too much about the island or the castaways, because of his head injury in the reverse tsunami. Even when he and Gilligan were alone, he stuck to that story.

Well, it didn't really matter. The important point was they were home.

"Vell, here ve are, Darlinks. So good seeing you all again."

It took Gilligan a moment to realize she was kicking them off the yacht. He overheard Mr. Howell mutter something to Mrs. Howell about walking the plank.

The Skipper said, "Thank you, Ma'am. I can take it from here."

The _Minnow_ had been tugged all the way back to Hawaii, so it wasn't difficult to get from the yacht back onto their tiny ship. It was sort of a relief to step back onto the battered deck, although Gilligan had to admit he had enjoyed being a little spoiled for awhile.

Before he left, he leaned over and whispered to Bongo, "Um, do you want your clothes back?"

The rock star chuckled. "Nah, Man, keep 'em."

"Thank you, Sir."

Bongo laughed harder. Gilligan supposed most people didn't call him Sir.

Once they were all on board the _Minnow II,_ the Skipper looked around the harbor, getting his bearings, and then set a course for their old slip. It felt like hardly any time had passed, like they were coming back from an ordinary three-hour tour.

And then when they arrived at their old dock, there was another ship there, in their old spot. Of course, they'd been lost at sea. Why would their space have been kept for them?

"What do we do now, Skipper?" Gilligan asked.

Instead of directly replying, the Skipper yelled, "Ahoy there!"

A middle-aged man came up on deck. He squinted. "Grumby, you old son of a gun, is that you?"

"In the flesh, Flaherty!"

Gilligan didn't remember Mr. or Captain Flaherty, but it was nice that someone was glad to see them, or at least to see the Skipper. Flaherty told them where the nearest empty slip was and added, "Do you want me to contact the press? Or does anyone need a doctor?"

For some reason, the girls looked at each other, even though nobody was sick. As far as he knew, no one got seasick on Mrs. Smith's yacht.

"Right now I just want to step on dry land again. And I think my passengers feel the same."

"Yeah, of course. Drop by when you get settled in."

"Thanks, Mick. You still in the same place?"

"Like a barnacle."

Both captains laughed like it was an old in-joke.

When they did finally set foot in Hawaii, after Gilligan and the Skipper made sure the boat was secure, it felt like there would be another delay. But, no, this was a Hawaiian dock, and there was a Hawaiian road, with Hawaiian grass and sand on either side.

A long black limo pulled up, just as Gilligan was about to ask the Skipper what they would do next. A man with a dark cap stuck his head out the driver's window and said, "Sorry I'm late, Madam."

Mrs. Howell smiled. "Not at all, Charles. You're right on time."


	31. Press Conference

The Professor wanted to fade into the background. He wanted to take a backseat to the more extroverted castaways. Let the Skipper and Mr. Howell battle for credit for their return. Let Ginger and Mrs. Howell in their different ways charm the reporters. But there were more questions for him at the press conference than he expected.

He would've guessed that the reporters would've zeroed in on the romance angle. Not his romance with the glamorous movie star, as that was still a secret, probably unknown to anyone but Mary Ann. He would've expected the press to gravitate towards the newlyweds. But the reporters seemed less interested in the wedding and the reason for the _Minnow II's_ existence than in what life on the island had been like.

"No boat?"

"No light?"

"No motorcar?"

And then the other castaways proudly told of the Professor's inventions. He was embarrassed but flattered by the attention, as well as proud of what he'd accomplished. He did his best to explain in terms that the general public could understand, having had practice on the island. None of his companions had had a scientific background. Oddly enough, it was the glamorous actress who had shown the most interest in science, and he was never sure if that was just to get his attention or if it was a genuine curiosity. Well, she had seemed sincere in her interest in nursing and psychology.

He still hadn't had a moment alone with her, not in weeks. The five of them were guests at the Howells' Hawaiian mansion, surrounded by servants. He'd felt a little spoiled on the yacht, being able to shower and eat well, but that was nothing compared to the pampering that the grateful millionaires were offering now that they had the means. It was nice for now, after so long living in primitive conditions, but he could see getting restless if he stayed much longer.

He wanted to get back to work, not necessarily the same college as before, but any college. He missed sharing the life of the mind with his peers. He wasn't born for this sort of luxury.

However, his future had perhaps changed. After being a bachelor for so long, he wasn't as alone as he had been. Not that he and Ginger had any sort of commitment, even a private one. But they had a connection, and not just because they'd spent a night together a few weeks ago. Could he plan his future without knowing her plans?

"Miss Grant?" A reporter interrupted the Professor's explanation of bicycle power. "Are you going to resume your film career?"

Ginger flashed her winning smile. "I might. Or I might just take a long tropical vacation."

The reporters all laughed.

Then she put on her serious look. "My agent is reviewing scripts for me right now and I'll take a look at them when I get back to Hollywood. But there's no rush."

That answered some of the Professor's questions as well. She wanted to live in Hollywood and she wanted to continue to act. Where would he fit into that life? He couldn't imagine himself at movie premieres and Hollywood parties. Would she want him as her date at such events? Or would he be her escape, the calm outside the storm of show biz?

What if he taught at UCLA or some other university or college near but not in Hollywood? They could spend time together, not every day, maybe not every week, but more than they would if he lived in another part of the country than Southern California. He just wasn't sure if he could put up with the smog and the traffic.

He breathed in the fresh Hawaiian air. The Howells' estate was a few minutes' walk from a private beach, a few minutes' drive from Honolulu. There were moments that the Professor could pretend they were still on their island. If it weren't for all these people.

It was Mr. Howell's idea to hold a press conference. He was retaking control of Howell Enterprises and all its subsidiaries. Or maybe it was Howell Corp and all its subsidiaries. The Professor couldn't remember. Anyway, Mr. Howell wanted to show that he was back in the saddle, but he wasn't just looking to make the front page of the _Wall Street Journal_. The millionaire was savvy enough to know that getting _Variety_ and _Scientific American_ , and every major and some minor publications, to cover this press conference was key. Using the word "synergy" in a non-scientific sense, Mr. Howell had explained to the six other former castaways that one thing his experiences on the island had taught him was that the world was changing and the fields of business, show business, science, and so on were starting to overlap. Success in one field was related to success in another field.

"Now, I can't stand the Mosquitoes but what if they wrote a song about us being marooned on the island?"

"They don't write their own songs," Gilligan pointed out.

"And there are more popular bands these days," Mary Ann admitted, looking like she felt like a disloyal fan.

"That's just one example. Or Ginger could star as herself in a movie about the island."

"Are you sure you don't want Eva Grubb?" Ginger joked.

Mr. Howell had dropped the subject for the moment but it was clearly on his mind when he answered any questions he got at the press conference, or chimed in on some of the questions the others received. For instance, when he spoke of the Professor's inventions, he made it sound like he might have his factory produce facsimiles. And he now said, "Miss Grant's next project may surprise you, but that's all we can say at this time."

The Professor wondered what Ginger's agent would think of that. For that matter, when and how had Ginger been in contact with her agent? Had she contacted him, or he her? By telephone, the Professor supposed. There hadn't been enough time for letters to go back and forth between here and the Mainland. And she must've called the agent, because he wouldn't have known how to reach her at the Howells' estate. Was she just calling to say that she was alive and well and back in America, and then the agent had brought up her resuming her career? Or had she eagerly asked the agent to start reviewing scripts for her?

Not that the Professor begrudged her pursuing her career. He just wished that she had talked to him about it first. He'd rather not have found out about this at the same time the media did.

Maybe she had answered other questions he hadn't spoken. Maybe this was her way of telling him that, despite that one lovely night, it was time for them to go back to separate lives. They'd have their memories and that would have to be enough. It wasn't as if she was ever going to be a faculty wife. Some elements weren't meant to synergize.

"So what next, Professor Hinkley?" a reporter asked.

"I'm still collecting data before I come to a conclusion."

Everyone laughed, although he wasn't trying to be funny.


	32. Bernie

Bernie would not have been Ginger's first choice of company at the doctor's office. But Mary Ann was in Kansas, introducing Gilligan to her family. And Roy had a teaching position at Stanford. He probably would've made the long drive down to Palm Springs if she asked, but she still wasn't ready to tell him.

She was officially on retreat, staying at a nice but not pricy resort. She'd done a modeling gig to pay for it. The style now was flat, skinny models like Twiggy, but Ginger knew she could capitalize a little on the notoriety of her return. And she knew it might be her last chance, if a baby was going to change her figure in a few months.

She went on the retreat to read through the scripts her agent brought her. She told him she didn't want to make any decision yet, and Bernie said that was fine.

And then one day she told him everything. She needed him to understand how she landed on the island, how she had landed in this situation. She knew he wouldn't judge her. He was her friend as well as her agent. And he'd been in Hollywood long enough that not much shocked him anymore.

"Kid, we gotta get you to a doctor. So at least you'll know."

She nodded. Enough time had passed that she could probably get accurate test results. She couldn't make any big decisions until she knew.

He found her a doctor who promised discretion from himself and his nurse. The appointment was scheduled for a day and time when there would be no other patients. Bernie used a pseudonym for her, but she would be instantly recognizable, especially with the recent publicity about her return to America.

There was a flicker of recognition in the nurse's eyes when Ginger came in, but the nurse said only, "Have a seat, Mr. and Mrs. Jones."

Ginger had asked Bernie to come with her, so she wouldn't have to go through this alone. It made most sense for him to pretend to be her husband. He was amused but happy to do a little acting himself.

"Don't be nervous, Honey Buns," he said, patting her hand. She gave him an annoyed look, so he whispered, "Too much?" She nodded.

A few minutes later, the nurse asked Ginger to follow her. Bernie mouthed, "Good luck." Ginger nodded, although she didn't know what the luckiest result would be.

...

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Jones!"

"Uh, thank you," Bernie said. He'd been called in to hear the results. Ginger could've objected, maybe said she wanted to tell her husband herself. But that seemed silly when he was waiting out in the reception area. And she wanted a friend there in that first moment of finding out.

The doctor chuckled. "I know you're both in shock, even if you might've been expecting it. It's always different when it becomes real."

He had that right, although he hadn't a clue what the real situation was. Not only wasn't Bernie her husband or the father of her baby, but the father might be someone else's husband.

She had trouble focusing as the doctor gave her instructions on taking care of herself for the next seven months. It was a relief when he gave her a pamphlet. But when the nurse-receptionist asked if Ginger wanted to make a follow-up appointment, she said, "Not today."

She and Bernie didn't speak as he drove her past the resort and into the desert. It was a blazing day, but when he parked his red '66 Pinto on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, they both got out and sat on the hood. She was wearing sunglasses and she stared out into forever, while her agent squinted.

She broke the silence with a quiet thank you.

"Hey, Kid, I wish I could do more for you. I'd marry you if it wouldn't screw up my alimony agreement."

She had to smile. Bernie was very bitter about his ex-wife, so for him to make even a half-hearted proposal like that was a big deal. And it was sweet of him.

"Thank you for that, too. But it wouldn't really solve anything."

"Well, it would give the baby a father."

"I think two fathers are enough."

He chuckled, although she hadn't meant to be funny. After a moment, she laughed, too. Then she sighed wearily.

"Are you going to tell him? Them?"

She nodded. She knew it was the right thing to do. If she weren't pregnant, she might've kept the secret forever. Or maybe she would've told Roy someday, years from now.

She stared at the flat horizon again. She admitted what she hadn't admitted to herself when the pregnancy was just hypothetical. She really wanted this baby. She wanted to be a mother, even if she didn't know if the baby would have a father, or too many fathers. She could do this alone if she had to, but it was fairest to let both men know. Fairest to the baby, fairest to the fathers.

"Which one first?"

"Roy," she said, surprised Bernie would even ask. Roy knew about Gilligan but Gilligan didn't know about Roy. And Gilligan was married and Roy was not.

"Yeah, Palo Alto is closer than Kansas. You wanna borrow my car for your road trip, Kid?"

If she took a bus, train, or plane, she definitely would be recognized by the other passengers. She could make the drive in seven hours.

She gave her agent a one-armed hug. "Thanks again, Bernie. You're a doll."

"Hey, just name the baby after me, that's all I ask."

"What if it's a girl?"

"Bernice?"

She laughed again. "I promise."


End file.
